


Foundations

by lunaseemoony



Series: Foundations [1]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Babies, Drama, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Pregnancy, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-03-23 09:57:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 55,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3763828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunaseemoony/pseuds/lunaseemoony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose and the Doctor decide to have a baby together. After she becomes pregnant with his first womb born child, the Doctor realizes that he wants to raise a baby with more than just his best friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For [allegoricalrose](http://allegoricalrose.tumblr.com/)'s baby!fic [prompt](http://allegoricalrose.tumblr.com/post/114087004514/ok-think-about-this-ten-rose-au-where-they-are).

Rose's green bunny slippers took turns hopping as she shifted her feet just outside the Doctor's study. She'd tried _really_ hard, honestly, to eat and go to bed as she told him she would. She failed miserably at both of these tasks. Her plate of leftover chips was still sitting in the galley's microwave, and as far as going to bed went, all she'd managed to do was change into a pair of loose-fitting pyjama bottoms. To be fair, she hadn't made much of an effort in the way of taking care of herself since they'd returned to the TARDIS this time. Her mind was a busy beehive of activity that couldn't be made to calm down no matter how hard she tried (which she really, very seriously wasn't doing at all). She'd tried speaking with the TARDIS about her concerns, and the ship did her best to comfort her with the lull of her whirring engines and occasional gentle thrums into her feet as she roamed the corridors. But this time only the Doctor could answer the questions she had running through her mind. In the five years they'd spent together, she could count on her hands the number of times this topic of discussion came up. And almost every time he'd come up with a distraction leading away from it.

“We're not going back, Rose. They're perfectly fine.”

The door to the Doctor's study must have slid open while Rose was thinking. That was the only explanation for him leaning up against the door frame with his glasses dangling from his fingers against his cheek as he studied her with an arched eyebrow. Rose stiffened. How long had he been standing there watching her? And what had she done to make his lips curl into that all knowing grin of his?

“In fact one of them will grow up to be something like a president some day. Aren't you proud?” His smile opened up into a beam before he winked at her with a click of his tongue.

He let her into his study and slumped back into his tattered and faded blue leather armchair. Rose took her seat in the less worn version next to it. “How did you know I was going to ask, Doctor?”

“You were mumbling to yourself just outside the door,” he answered as he picked up a book and slid his specs up his nose, not looking up at her to speak. “Think you might have caught a cold on that last space station, by the by. Your chest is rattling. Pop into the infirmary some time so the TARDIS can get you something for that, hmm?” He paused. “It's not like you to want to return to some place.”

Rose picked up the Doctor's likely half empty cup of tea and brought it to her lips for a testing sip after she hiked her legs up to her chest. She sat the cup on her knees and leaned forward for another sip before she spoke. “The things those doctors did to their people, it was horrible. Cloning people and growing them in those awful tanks like sea monkeys? It's like New Earth all over again. I just never thought that it could get _worse_ than that.”

“It's all perception.”

She barely heard him, and kept going after another sip of his cold tea. “I held one of those babies, Doctor. You saw them. They were.. there was nothing there, like they were little dolls. To have never been born! Nobody to call mummy or daddy, nobody to make their tiny little bodies feel safe cradled in loving arms, nobody to teach them how to love or walk and talk. It's wrong, Doctor!”

The Doctor dropped his book to his lap and folded up his glasses on top of it. Rose felt as though she could have been swept up in the sharp breath that he took just then. Her eyes followed his tree branch legs as they uncrossed and propped up the rest of his lanky frame in his chair. Rose felt the dusty air around her thickening with the tension beading right off his cool skin. It kept her from saying anything else. Something she'd said must have welled up the Storm a little.

“They're fine now, well loved, Rose. Promise. It's not going to happen again, not there at least.”

“Don't tell me,” she shuddered, nearly dropping the cup of tea, “ _that_ happens elsewhere.”

Rose hadn't thought about censoring herself until she felt the Doctor's eyes glaring at her, and saw his grip on his book tighten so much that his knuckles turned white. After five years of traveling with the Doctor one might think that she would have learned to navigate the mine field of sensitive topics with him. By the time he made the Storm dissipate from his expression it was too late. Rose already gathered she'd stepped on a pretty big land mine.

It had been a long five years. Rose felt like she could easily be ten years older than she actually was, 24. When she no longer had a home on Earth to return to, her perception of time changed drastically. She had no idea when the days might change from one to the next. Her diary entries, which had been a neglected and futile effort to begin with, no longer carried any dates on them. Only the TARDIS could give her any inclining as to her age. And they made up holidays when it suited them most. They hadn't celebrated Christmas last year, as Rose couldn't bring herself to pretend to enjoy it any longer without her mum or her cooking. They'd only needed to buy one extra set of Christmas crackers since Rose stepped on the TARDIS, because they only ever used two at a time.

She wasn't sad, mind. Seeing her mother with her baby brother provided all of the solace she ever needed. The Doctor had gone to all the trouble to burn up a sun for her so that she could say goodbye. Pete, her dad, made her mum happy. And they didn't need to tell her how pleased she must have been to live in his palatial home.

He offered to take her some place where she could live a normal life, any home that she might want to settle down in or ground herself to. Rose knew the Doctor couldn't help himself. He didn't need to explain his motives, and she never blamed him for his need to keep her safe. Yes, she was furious with him for a while, even long after the broken bones from her fall at Canary Wharf healed. But she never blamed him. And no matter how much she missed her mum or Mickey, Rose never regretted her actions, not once. She'd chosen to live a life with her best friend, and all that came with him.

“Life occurs in so many ways, Rose. That happens to be one of them. Not every creature is born of a womb.” The Doctor finally broke the tense silence.

Rose's heart was doing back flips in its cage. The Doctor's stony gaze left her, but she could still feel the tension building up between them. It wouldn't matter if there wasn't an end table between their two chairs. She could easily be across the room from him. She considered reaching across the table for his hand, but would it even be given when he was like this?

“How were you born, Doctor?”

And there it was, flying out of her mouth before she could properly examine it. She so seldom had opportunities as good as this one to ask the Doctor about his heritage. And when she did, he did a great job of avoiding the topic. It was probably not the best idea, given the state he was in. But she'd done worse. And much to her surprise, after taking a deep breath, he actually answered.

“Not of a womb, if that's what you're asking,” he began. “No, Time Lords were,” he growled softly, “ooh, you're not going to understand this, were loomed.” He held up his finger before she could interject with her question that he must have known was forming in her mind. “At one point they reproduced much like humans did. Different gestation, but the process was pretty similar. They built these devices called Looms, which you might call an incubator, or maybe stasis chambers if you were from a different time. Time Lords wove life, if you will, Rose. They crafted new life from existing Time Lord DNA.”

By the time he finished this explanation, Rose was sitting on the floor leaning up against the Doctor's armchair while he paced the room. She'd made an attempt at comforting him by resting her head on his leg, but he couldn't be made to sit still even when he was in a normal state.

“Is that how you were born, Doctor?” Rose asked. This question came gently, tiptoes in the night, as if she spoke any louder or less delicately she might wake the Oncoming Storm.

“Yup,” he answered while shoving his glasses in his suit jacket pocket. The way that he'd been fidgeting with them, he could have broken them. “I wouldn't say that I was born, it's not a word that's been used for my.. a long time.”

“But you said that you were a dad once,” Rose murmured. And this was pushing it. She knew that much. She watched him stop in his tracks and wheel around on his heels. She might have been holding her breath waiting for his answer.

“I was. And my child was loomed as well.”

He paused. There was more, Rose gathered. But he stopped himself. Instead, he joined her on the floor in front of his chair and hummed a sigh.

“So you've never had a baby then?” Rose asked, barely above a whisper as she looked down at her fuzzy green slipper feet.

He grinned at her. “Rose, I've never even _been_ a baby.”

She couldn't be certain if he was hiding from her or genuinely smiling at her. But she concluded that it was a bit of both as she watched him make an attempt at bringing some energy to so his wilting hair. Rose took his hand and twined her fingers with his. His smile softened as he looked at her properly. So the first one _was_ exaggerated then. This one, coupled with gently sparkling eyes and a little hum as his thumb rubbed along the back of her hand, was most certainly real.

Rose looked down at their joined hands. “Have you ever considered having one? A baby?”

“Not so much, no. I hadn't really met anyone that I'd wanted to have a baby with.” His grip on her hand tightened as he said this.

“Not really possible anyway, is it?”

She could feel that horribly mischievous grin spreading across his freckled face even before she looked up at him to see it. “Oh no, it's _very_ possible.”

Rose's eyes couldn't help shifting away from their hands just a little. She'd be a dreadful liar if she said she hadn't spent a good bit of time wondering what lay beneath his tight fitting trousers. She'd never come to any real conclusion, not until a moment ago when she thought that whatever he might be equipped with might only be for decoration. He did fancy throwing a wrench into all this, didn't he?

And he wasn't finished, evidently. “You want to be a mum,” he blurted out, much in the same fashion as her questions for him.

Rose opened her mouth and then shut it again. Her hand, wanting to be buried somewhere under her bum, wasn't permitted its freedom. The Doctor's grip on her hand tightened that much further. Her cheeks were probably turning a very ripe shade of pink, even if his grin softened a little.

“You've thought about it too!” Rose threw back at him like a child caught with her hand in the biscuit jar.

“I have, yeah,” he sighed back at her, like a warm blanket falling on her shoulders. It was only fair that he catch her off guard a little, too.

“You don't want to settle down, though.”

“God, no,” he stuck his tongue out in the air as if tasting a particularly sour lemon.

“On the TARDIS?”

“Why not? There's a nursery aboard somewhere. Well, no reason we can't have the TARDIS make us a new one. Oooh, could you imagine decorating one like the Lion King?” He gasped and hummed.

Rose's heart leaped into her throat before she swallowed it, hard. “Wait. Doctor, you're not playing, are you?” If this was a dream, it was a pretty cruel one that she'd wake up from feeling pretty angry with her mind for playing such tricks on her.

He arched an eyebrow at her and sat up a bit. “I'm not,” he spoke up as he turned around to face her and crossed his legs. “Who better to have a child with than you, Rose?”

He didn't quantify their relationship, but the words were floating around in the air between them all the same. Rose hadn't ever felt a friendship stronger than the one she had with the Doctor. Given this, they'd never dared to take it a step further. Maybe they'd never felt the need to. Even if she did, they had her forever that they'd promised one another in no uncertain terms.

Now those terms might be changing. It was really happening. The fact was dizzying, and almost rendered her speechless.

“We could have a baby?”

“Yeah, d'you want one?”

Surely they'd had stranger, more surreal conversations. But at that precise moment Rose couldn't recall any of them. She was regretting finishing his tea, because at least if she had it now she could hide behind it or let its bitter sweetness settle on her tongue to ground her to reality.

“Do _you_?” She returned just as he took hold of her previously free and trembling hand.

He never answered with words. He never needed to. The return of that horribly mischievous grin, along with those bouncing eyebrows of his, spoke at least a thousand silent ones. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose and the Doctor decide to have a baby together. After she becomes pregnant with his first womb born child, the Doctor realizes that he wants to raise a baby with more than just his best friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [allegoricalrose](http://allegoricalrose.tumblr.com/)'s baby!fic [prompt](http://allegoricalrose.tumblr.com/post/114087004514/ok-think-about-this-ten-rose-au-where-they-are).

 

_“We could have a baby?”_

_“Yeah, d'you want one?”_

_Surely they'd had stranger, more surreal conversations. But at that precise moment Rose couldn't recall any of them. She was regretting finishing his tea, because at least if she had it now she could hide behind it or let its bitter sweetness settle on her tongue to ground her to reality._

_“Do you?” She returned just as he took hold of her previously free and trembling hand._

_He never answered with words. He never needed to. The return of that horribly mischievous grin, along with those bouncing eyebrows of his, spoke at least a thousand silent ones._

 

 

Two days later (which was the best approximation Rose could muster after the whirlwind of activity that followed their conversation the study) Rose awoke in her bed feeling no more rested than she had before. Her stiff neck was already lodging its complaint for another fitful night of tossing and turning. The TARDIS's soft amber lights flickered on as she sat up and groaned. But a smile turned up the corners of her lips when she remembered last night's events. It grew wider when a coral panel on the wall opened up to a little shelf with a cup of tea and a plate of warm scones already sitting on it.

“You know,” she murmured in a stretch as her feet fell to the floor, “I've always wondered. D'you spoil him like this too?”

The ship's low thrum that sent a gentle shiver up her spine was indiscernible as always, but no less comforting than usual. Assuming he actually ventured into the galley to cook up food, heating up the left overs for him would be an easy way for the TARDIS to make sure that her Time Lord actually ate. She padded over the open panel to pick up her breakfast before plopping back onto her bed with it. This day wasn't one to rush into, Rose concluded as she clicked on the telly.

 

-+-+-+-

 

“What does this mean for us, Doctor?” Rose hopped up off the console room jump seat and leaned into the console next to the Doctor.

If she thought that their agreement to have a child meant that they were going to dive right in, she would have been mistaken. Fortunately for Rose, she'd learned a while ago to not hold any expectations while running with the Doctor. All she could hold onto was the unexpected, and his hand to guide her. It worked out in her favor that night, because that hand led her right out of his study and into the wild.

She wasn't the least bit fazed by him chiding her for carelessness that nearly got her killed during their adventures. It wasn't that different from most other occasions that nearly got her killed, and it certainly wasn't the first time that it would've been her own fault. It _was_ the first time her carelessness was the direct result of her being distracted (as ridiculous as that notion seemed while facing down an army of Venus flytraps in the middle of a desert) by life back inside the TARDIS.

He'd given her little time to process what they'd really discussed before diving back into their normal life. No, it wasn't all a dream, Rose told herself. In no uncertain terms the Doctor had asked her if she wanted to have a baby with him. Well, there was always room for uncertain terms with a man that fumbled over his own words like a drunk man would with his own feet. But Rose had prided herself on honing her skills in reading the Doctor. He was playful, yes. But there was no mistaking how still he'd went when his eyes stopped darting around her face, when his shoulders relaxed, when he stilled the waggling of his trainers. He'd been serious, and there was no doubt in her mind of this.

“Us?” The Doctor hummed at Rose through the pencil trapped between his lips. His head bobbed up from its fixed point on the console's monitor to look at her just above the black frames of his specs. He tucked the pencil into his ear and let his mouth hang open as he glared at her. It was that face he made when his addled mind barely registered that she'd even spoken. “Rose, what're you – oh.”

Something she did, maybe the way she lowered her head to peer over his arm at what he'd been studying on the monitor, or how she shifted her weight too many times while trying to stay casual must have given her away. It didn't matter in the end. The Doctor turned around and looked at her properly.

“Rose, I thought that you wanted us to be – ”

After Canary Wharf, Rose had nobody but the Doctor. She'd considered him a part of her unconventional family for ages. Hell, her mum had considered him family. Jackie ignored his moans of complaint when she licked her finger and cleaned a bit of engine grease off his freckled cheek one time. She greeted him with kisses each time they visited, no matter how quick he was in his attempts to duck away from them. And she was even more concerned than Rose was about how skinny he was, citing that his previous incarnation knew how to eat better. Her mum's flat was empty now, and the Doctor was no replacement for her. But he still made certain that Rose felt loved all the same. He wasn't a parent or a sibling, not an uncle or grandparent or cousin. He was her best friend. As long as they were together, Rose never felt lonely.

They were perfect kindred spirits, having both lost their families to the choices they made in the thick of war. It took Rose a while to understand why the Doctor was so angry with her for making the choice that she had. He wanted her to have a life that he thought he never could. She couldn't and wouldn't ever fault him for it, just as she knew he hadn't allowed himself to take her offer of all the life she had until after Canary Wharf. As long as Rose lived, neither of them would be alone. They cherished this brand of friendship so much that neither of them had ever deigned to ask for more. But of course, until their little conversation in the study happened, neither of them really thought they _could_ have more without risking the bond they'd already forged.

“The baby, Doctor,” Rose stammered as she combed her fingers through her sandy hair. She was going to thoroughly enjoy a hot shower after all this. “What's it mean for traveling?”

It wasn't that she'd said the word “baby” that sent a cool tremor down her sweaty neck, but the Doctor's sharp breath as she said it. He let his specs hang off a lever on the console and leaned into her close enough for her to almost taste that morning's coffee on his cool breath. The way his brows bowed and thin lips quivered just then had her heart moving to a gallop. And when this turned into the gentlest of smiles, it skipped a beat or two altogether.

“You really want to have a baby?” The Doctor asked, barely above a whisper as he stepped even closer.

“Course I do,” Rose bleated.

She didn't have a favorite word in the English language, and felt that most people didn't. But the way that the word “baby” uttered from his lips hung in the air like a little cloud might have changed this all too quickly. Was it the same for him as she'd said it? Did his hearts begin pounding fiercely into his ears, too? The flush bringing color to her clammy cheeks was probably unique to her. But this might have been encouraged more by her recalling how rugged he'd looked brandishing a sword not more than an hour before they'd stepped back onto the TARDIS. It didn't matter that he hadn't used it in the end. The same man that had roared ferociously as he ran with it across the battlefield was the one that had practically whispered such pure sweetness before her.

“Do you want to slow down a little?” the Doctor offered, returning to her original question.

He'd never really asked her what she wanted so frequently in topics that didn't pertain to their next destination. It caught her by surprise so much that she actually stepped back a little, before his hand wrapped around hers and pulled her back in.

“Not much, no,” she admitted. “You know I love the running.”

He grinned at her. “Quite right, too,” he said, and took yet another step closer to her. “But Rose, it'd be too much, asking me to risk the life of a child – my child.”

Rose blinked and sucked in a lungful of balmy console room air that was not nearly enough to sate the appetite this idea gave her. He wasn't being wholly serious, not with the little sparkle still lighting his dark eyes. But he'd said so much in so few words, and this left Rose's head dizzy with a wide assortment of ideas. They hadn't even really, properly discussed more than suggestions _how_ they were to go about having a child. But in this statement the Doctor had made it unequivocally clear (if it hadn't been before) that this child would be _his_. They hadn't even conceived a child and already it was _his_. The Doctor asking her if she wanted to slow down then sounded a lot more like a gentle command.

“You said you didn't want to settle down, Doctor.”

He let go of her hands and bolted up, as if a surge of energy raced up his spine. “Who said anything about settling down? Slowing down isn't the same as stopping.” He answered, scandalized. “Not on the TARDIS. Not possible. Just imagine, Rose!” He began to twirl and dance around the console, knocking levers and pushing buttons along the way, setting coordinates for the Time Vortex. “A little baby toddling around the TARDIS?” He paused to press a hand to the time rotor. “You'd like that, wouldn't you, old girl?” He cooed at the ship as he continued his bouncing around the console. “Another crew member to look after? Hm? Eh?”

While the ship's engines moaned and wheezed as they worked, Rose couldn't tell if the ship agreed with the Doctor. Not that she'd be able to tell anyway. Sometimes she liked to guess.

“So, Doctor, just wondering, how are we going to go about this?”

It was a legitimate question, not meant to stump the Doctor at all. But it halted his movements so completely that his legs locked and he fell back onto the jump seat. His body became as limp as a sack of flour in a beat and he sighed. He was so still that Rose could see his hearts' every beat through the subtle trembling of his chest. And if she had to venture a guess, they were racing, even though he'd told her once that he could control them. Had she stumped him so thoroughly that he forgot to? She must have, because when the TARDIS landed in the Vortex she could hear its clock ticking away an entire minute of silence before Rose joined him on the jump seat. She tucked her legs under her bum and gripped the frayed leather seat behind him. As playful as last night's exchange had been, he couldn't really have skipped over the details, the parts necessary to make it all happen, could he? Actually, he could, Rose thought. And it would be very _him_.

“I mean, you want _me_ to carry _your_ child, yeah?” Rose asked, and considered grabbing his hand to hold before it ripped his pinstriped pant leg to shreds. But she held back, and gave him just the little bit of space that was thickening the air between them.

“Yeah,” he croaked. She followed his adam's apple as it bobbed in his throat.

“We've got a couple of ways of going about that,” Rose continued, and skipped right over the banking terminology that came to mind. “There's the traditional method.”

“No.” They agreed together, and she shook her head. This was when his hand crept across his lap and into hers so his spindly fingers could entwine with hers.

“And then there's, well, you know. A bit more indirect, if you want.”

He grimaced, but didn't lean either way. To her surprise, he looked up at her with that grimace. His eyes sagged just a little, just enough. Normally it was an expression that he'd make every effort to hide from her. Was there another way, he might have been wanting to ask her. Why did it matter, she wondered? Well, certainly it mattered if he was considering their first option, which he clearly wasn't. Of course this method was dreadfully impersonal, lacking all manner of physical contact. But if the Doctor was well versed enough to supply another idea, it didn't show in this short moment.

“I could, if it'd be better for you, go to a clinic,” Rose offered, and squeezed his hand.

He was standing before she knew up from down. Standing, with just a spark of agitation buzzing around him. “No.” And he captured her hand again, yanking her up to her feet. “You're _not_ going to a clinic and having an-” he began, but shuddered and shook his head. “No. That's not on the list of options.” The hesitation that surrounded him only a moment earlier was gone from his voice entirely.

“So, then,” she hummed, and rocked on her aching feet. She'd since forgotten about the sand in her shoes, in her hair, in places it should never be, and was looking longingly down the corridor that would lead to her bedroom. “Option two?”

“Yup,” he answered, and popped the 'p' off his lips. He mimicked her in rocking back and forth before he added, “Our timing might be just right in these next few days, too, I think, if I remember correctly.” He paused for a moment and counted on his fingers as he glared up at the wiry ceiling. “Yeah.”

“Wait, what?”

Her breath hitched. Surely he couldn't mean..

“You're ovulating.”

The way that these words just rolled off his tongue with utter disregard to their nonchalance, Rose decided should have been outlawed. She dared ask, even though she _knew_ she'd end up regretting it. “How do you know?”

“Three years ago you had me pop into the pharmacy right around the same time in a cycle that you eat double decker bars and jaffa cakes. You only eat them for a few days in any given cycle, and that coincided with your trip to the pharmacy. Your mood was.. well..” he cleared his throat when she realized she was scowling at him just a little. “And the TARDIS scans help a bit.”

“The TARDIS _scans_ me? And who gave her permission to do that?!” Her voice rose to a shout.

“I _am_ your doctor, Rose,” he reminded her. “It saved your life a few times!”

“Guessing I won't be needing any pregnancy tests then.”

“If it would make you feel better, we could pick up some. I know they're a sort of ritual in your culture. But no, they won't be necessary.”

Rose was quite certain that her mum would disagree, but she never saw much pomp and circumstance in the whole process of a woman's home pregnancy test. And the image of the Doctor pacing outside her bathroom waiting for her to complete one was enough of a deterrent for her. The TARDIS's walls were plenty thick, but they weren't sound proof. She couldn't imagine a bouncy, excited Time Lord offering her the privacy that she'd crave for the test. It was a ritual that Rose was more than willing to give up.

“How about you go and pop into the shower,” The Doctor mumbled as he fidgeted with a lit button on the console controls. “I'll, ah.. well..”

“Yeah.”

Rose didn't need to be told twice, and made herself scarce in a heartbeat. She was fooling herself a few minutes later as she stepped into the shower and thought she could banish thoughts of the Doctor from her mind long enough to complete the task. She'd left a trail of discarded sandy clothes leading to her sizable bathroom, and wondered if the Time Lord was mirroring these actions somewhere aboard the ship. There were two places on the TARDIS that Rose allowed herself the brand of thoughts that weren't congruent with her friendship with the Doctor. The shower was one of them, on the very odd occasion that such imaginings crossed her mind. She was only human. A young female human. And once in a while she forgave herself for having these thoughts, especially when the other half of the equation necessary for making a child was somewhere on the TARDIS possibly about to be indecent. No amount of steam wafting around her shower could shield her from knowing this to be the truth in some capacity.

Rose slipped into bed before she would be paid a visit from the Doctor. A couple of hours passed, and she tried to not think about what the Doctor was doing. She tried to keep her mind busy, and then blank when she went to bed. This couldn't be easy for him, she told herself a few times. If the tables were turned, she wondered if she'd be able to do what was necessary. She busied herself at least a little bit thinking about how much fun they would have decorating the baby's nursery, if the TARDIS would let them. The time ship had a penchant for moving things around and redecorating at the drop of a hat.

At some point during all of these musings, Rose managed to fall asleep. And though it couldn't have been for long, she still woke up in a twisted mess with her pyjamas entangled with her blankets. It was when she was about to fall off the bed in her attempts to free herself that she noticed the blue plastic vial on her nightstand. Had he been waiting for her to fall asleep? He couldn't simply knock on her door and hand it to her? Just as she was about to mentally rebuke him for his cowardice, Rose sighed relief. He _would_ slip into the dark and sneak it onto her nightstand, she thought. And he must have searched the infirmary high and low for a vial that wasn't clear. He'd made every consideration for her privacy, she realized.

And part of Rose wished that the Doctor could be there to support her, she thought as she picked up the vial and closed her palm around it. Part of her wanted him to be there to hold her hand through all of this, because it seemed completely unnatural for him to not be there for something so monumental in her life. The other part of her shivered a little at the ridiculousness of it all. But since she'd stepped onto the TARDIS for the first time, the Doctor had been such a big part of her life, and was always there for her. Was their relationship really so fragile that it couldn't survive just a bit more awkwardness? Maybe she hadn't always felt they were rock solid, but she certainly did just then. It nearly saw her plucking the com off the wall to call him back to her room. Nearly. The only reason she didn't was to spare him.

So Rose slipped beneath a decent pile of blankets and swallowed her pounding heart. Her ribs had never felt so shallow as when her heart rammed at its cage as she clutched the little blue vial for dear life. Thankfully the TARDIS answered her question of what the hell to do with a little vial.

She was equally thankful for the damn thing disappearing when she woke up a few hours later. She'd never wanted to see it again, she decided rather quickly. The supplies she'd used were nowhere to be seen when she stumbled out of bed to pick up her tea and scones. Compared to saving lives and running for her own, maybe the task hadn't ranked as the hardest thing she'd ever done, she thought as she drowned herself in mindless television programming.

There was no ranking for the realization that the next step was waiting. And no amount of tomfoolery with time travel could change this. However, amongst all of the uncertainty (including whether they'd be successful on their first try) that welled as Rose sipped her tea in bed, one little fact rose above it all: she was going to have a baby with the Doctor.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose and the Doctor decide to have a baby together. After she becomes pregnant with his first womb born child, the Doctor realizes that he wants to raise a baby with more than just his best friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [allegoricalrose](http://allegoricalrose.tumblr.com/)'s baby!fic [prompt](http://allegoricalrose.tumblr.com/post/114087004514/ok-think-about-this-ten-rose-au-where-they-are). Note that this chapter gets a bit on the angsty side.

_There was no ranking for the realization that the next step was waiting. And no amount of tomfoolery with time travel could change this. However, amongst all of the uncertainty (including whether they'd be successful on their first try) that welled as Rose sipped her tea in bed, one little fact rose above it all: she was going to have a baby with the Doctor._

 

 

The Doctor typically found himself on the hiding end of the game hide and seek. Well, most of the time he didn't know he was playing until he was found. And Rose probably wouldn't call it a game when she was irritated with him for making her search for him. Perhaps someday he could actually _play_ hide and seek with willing participants. And he'd win, oh he'd win. Who knew all of the little nooks, crannies and hidden laboratories better than the Doctor? Only the TARDIS and – on days that he allowed himself such daydreams – his future children.

Today, however, it was his turn to search for Rose. Make no mistake, he didn't mind. He'd just gotten a few hours of sleep, and since Rose wasn't to found in her bedroom, that meant she was up as well. If she was up, she could be taken somewhere exciting that they could lose themselves in. They could go anywhere, no limits. Well, there were limits. Not nearly enough to slow him down, though. Today was a day for letting the TARDIS set their destination. He was itching, almost _aching_ to go somewhere, anywhere off the ship. It felt like a good day. Something good was going to happen today, so good that he didn't need a basis for this assessment. He let his hearts set the pace today, and they had him almost hopping down the hallway in his search for Rose.

He'd already poked his head into her bedroom, and the TARDIS removed the temptation of him exploring its depths as he'd been thinking. The galley was cold and Rose-free. He might have checked the console room first, but no. It came after he checked the infirmary, his study, and the laboratory closest to her bedroom. Maybe she'd already been ready for adventure, he hoped briefly. She might have slipped right past him and could be slumped over in the jump seat huffing and puffing because for once _he'd_ held _her_ up. His trainers practically bounced off of the rusty grated floor as he skipped into what he found to be a dark and empty console room. This game was turning out to be a dud. But he wasn't about to let Rose's absence rain on his parade. No, he was going to find her and drag her somewhere that she'd love, once he remembered what might qualify as such. He might need a little help in that regard. The TARDIS was good for that. But he'd need Rose first.

His intuition carried him to one of the back doors to the library. It didn't matter that Rose never sat her A levels. The world class education that she received aboard the TARDIS was invaluable, untouchable by even the most prestigious universities on her home planet. She could often be found here, and it wouldn't be the first occasion she'd lost track of time pouring over one of the books in his collection. He hadn't gotten past the giant afghan rug near the doorway when he heard the distant peals of Rose's single heart chiming in his well tuned ears. He didn't need to have a bat's hearing when the acoustics in the giant space echoed sounds so efficiently. The Doctor weaved through bookcases and stacks of books taller than him that he hadn't seen since he had gray hair last (shudder) using these gentle chimes as a compass where Rose was true North.

At first he had every intention of hiding behind a bookcase to watch her for a few minutes. And normally he could, for hours. The scene laid before his eyes could be called serene. The TARDIS got a fire going for Rose, and the logs' soft hisses and crackles soothed the hollow, dusty library air. A blonde head was all that peaked out of a mound of fleece blanket on a loveseat in front of the fire. She was surrounded by some of his favorite books, and even had a small stack next to her on the loveseat. But they were being neglected in favor of watching the fire. Her heartbeats sounded more like a guitar now, plucking away at a slow blues tune rather than the quick salsa beats his ears loved so much. It might have sounded just a bit more captivating without the occasional sniffle and sigh interrupting it. He felt his post slumber exuberance melting away with Rose's every quivering breath until the leather of the loveseat groaned as he sank into it next to her.

“Hey,” he hummed as he wiggled out of his overcoat and kicked off his trainers.

“Hey,” she mumbled into the peach colored fleece.

“What's that you got there?”

He nodded at the closed fist beneath her knees. When Rose saw him looking, she jumped and hid it under her bum. His chuckle escaped with a heavy sigh.

“Gave in to temptation, did you?”

His question didn't sound really sour until he watched Rose's shoulders sink and fall to her hiked up knees. She didn't answer. Maybe she knew she didn't need to.

“What's it say?” he whispered. Rose shook her head and shifted to completely conceal the offending piece of white plastic. “Didn't think there was a pharmacy on that last planet.”

“It was a little hole in the wall,” she confessed. He might have handled her flat tone well enough. But this one was pushing vacant, riding on hitched breaths. He was afraid to meet her eyes. “You were off buying those little screws.”

“Can't just buy any little screws for a sonic screwdriver,” he asserted with a crooked smile. She nuzzled the blanket on her knees and shifted to look away from him. He looked up at the domed ceiling at the vast expanse of coral and golden roundels. “You needed tangible proof. It's okay.”

“I mean, I knew it already, yeah? I saw it, the TARDIS showed me. I just needed to test it for myself for once. I trust you.”

“I know.”

“You knew even before the scans, didn't you?” she asked, and he nodded without looking down. “Every time?” Again, he nodded. “Then you've got to know that something's wrong, Doctor.”

He wished that he hadn't looked down to meet her gaze. Rose's eyes told the story of a girl hidden away in a little corner of the library crying in front of a dwindling fire all by herself. It had all happened while he slept. The dark halos framing her puffy eyes, her hair sticking to her apple cheeks, toes curled into the worn upholstery of the loveseat, her adorable little sniffles, they all served as proof that sleep was absolutely useless.

She went on before he could answer. “It's so easy for you. You can just forget what's going on and have fun.”

Even when her face did that thing where it scrunched up and she practically spat the words at him, he let them roll right off his shoulders. It was something he knew grated on her nerves. But one of them had to be marginally sane. It ought to be the one who'd had dry eyes the whole time.

“I haven't forgotten.”

“So it just doesn't bother you then? Six months, Doctor, and we still haven't...” she paused, and the word floated on a held breath, but didn't settle on her lips.

“Conceived.”

“And that doesn't bother you?”

Of course it bothered him. He noted every day, hour, minute and second that passed without his child. In her own way, Rose did, too, he knew this much. Even when they were apart for one reason or another, the reminder of why he'd wanted a child in the first place was still with him, because he could never put the image of Rose holding a baby out his mind. His hearts felt just a little bit emptier than usual without the promise of making a new memory, one with a real baby, one that was their own.

But how could he tell Rose that their lack of success thus far bothered him? One of them had to be levelheaded about the entire situation, and Rose decided early on that the task was too much for her to bear. So it came to him to soften the blow of bad news each time, to remind her they could try again, to deliver inconclusive test results with a dash of optimism. She couldn't really want to know that his resolve wore thin at times, too, could she?

The Doctor wanted to tell Rose that she'd be a wonderful mum, even that she'd learned from the best. Their reasons for wanting to have a child together were atypical and a little odd. But they had the benefit of allowing the Doctor to be slightly objective. Rose was among the bravest people he'd ever met. She was clever, whether she let herself believe this half the time or not. Even though she could be callous, she had the warmest and kindest of hearts. She had horrible habits like eating at odd hours and chewing on her fingernails. But she was only human, and that was just perfect for the Doctor. No Time Lord he'd ever known could possess such perfect qualities for being a mum. And he basked in the knowledge that this assessment came from a mind that wasn't clouded by any entanglements.

“It doesn't always happen overnight, Rose,” he offered, staring into the crackling fire.

She chuffed at him, and he probably deserved it. “You can't admit that something's wrong, keeping us from..” she wrinkled her nose, still not able to utter the word. “It's me, isn't it?”

“I haven't found anything.”

“Doesn't mean you won't. It's got to be me,” she hissed through her teeth. She paused to glare at him, making a round trip over his form. “'cause you've got all of that perfect Time Lord anatomy working for 'ya. What have I got?” He couldn't interrupt her fast enough, and she stung him with, “Defective human.”

He turned on the loveseat so that he was completely facing her, no matter that she chose not to return the gesture. “Don't, Rose,” was all he could manage.

But like a snowball rolling down a hill, she kept on. “How else do we explain it, Doctor?” She looked altogether more agitated than a bird whose nest has been disturbed. “We've tried, really. How d'you explain that nothing's worked? I'm – ”

“No, stop,” he growled as he caught one of her wildly gesturing hands. “Stop that. You wouldn't let your child talk about herself like that. I know you wouldn't.” He had her when she swallowed a hiccup and blushed. “There's _nothing_ wrong with you, Rose.”

He squeezed her hand as he would an orange for a moment before twining their fingers together. He got caught up enough to briefly forget how to control his own breathing, and was taking breaths in gulps just as Rose was. He watched her chest swell and sink like the ocean in a storm, with her excited heart beating down on it like thunder.

“You're not certain why it's not working though.”

“No.”

They watched the fire dance around the logs in the fireplace as he listened to her complaining about girls living on the Powell Estate and how they got pregnant by accident. They'd been teased for their careless mistakes. But at least they managed to have children in the end, Rose said, whether they'd wanted them or not. And she confessed that she'd never pictured herself being a mum. She could barely take care of herself half of the time, she told him with a grimace.

“I mean, I know it was meant to be fun. But that was when I thought it would be easy,” Rose continued.

“Where's the fun in easy?” the Doctor offered, and squeezed her hand.

“Maybe this is all happening 'cause I'm not meant for this, Doctor.”

His hearts fell to his stomach, and he had to remind himself to breathe before he got to his feet and began to pace around in front of the fireplace. Breathe, he told himself. She doesn't mean what she's saying, surely, he told himself. He'd read up on human psychology just for Rose, for instances like this. He was still guessing at best. But what could he have possibly done to make her feel insecure? He shoved his fingers through his hair, setting its tresses to angry quills.

“You're going to give up, just like that?” He accused, and jabbed a finger at her through the air. She didn't answer. “Is that _really_ want you want?” This time he didn't leave room for her to answer as his feet marched him back up to her, bearing down on her. “It's not. I _know_ it's not.” His lips curled into a frown as he sat down next to her. His anxious hand grounded itself on her cheek, and he thought for a moment that he didn't need the fire beside them if her skin could warm his. She leaned into his touch, and he was happy to oblige, threading his fingers through her damp tresses. “Rose Marion Tyler, the girl who faced armies of daleks and cybermen without barely batting an eye. My best friend, that I nearly lost to the Void – but _survived –_ is just going to give up?”

Rose's eyes, when they looked up to meet his, glistened as they teetered on the edge of tears. She was a mess of sunken limbs, and tangled hair that his fingers wanted to comb through. He was certain he whispered, “come here,” to her as he scooped her up into his lap. He couldn't be bothered to be certain, not when her heart was rapping against his chest, even through all of the layers of clothing between them. He almost never got to revel in this feeling because their embraces came hand in hand with danger. Rushes of adrenaline were not conducive for truly soaking up the warmth from her cheek brushing his neck, or for appreciating just how soft her little feminine curves could be against his bony frame. Rose tucked her legs in and curled herself into a little ball, blanket and all, in his tightly wrapped arms.

“Of course you're meant for this,” he whispered to her head tucked under his neck.

“How do you know?” Rose mumbled into his jacket.

“I believe in you,” he whispered right into her ear, and eagerly ate up the shiver that followed. Rose craned her neck to look up at him with a furrowed brow. “And before you say it, it's got _everything_ to do with this.” The Doctor put a finger to her lips. “Just listen, Rose.” She rested her head back on his chest, and it took a great deal of effort to calm his hearts to soothe her. Rose was so close. He closed his eyes and took in her flowery ripeness with a sigh. He busied his fingers with scratching little pathways along her spine. “Do you remember our trip to the Destiny Islands?” She nodded.

“I remember the star fruit. We got captured after that,” Rose replied.

“Yes! The fruit, I never told you what it was for, did I?”

“Surprisingly, no.”

The Doctor thanked his younger self for not being a gob for once, that he could pluck this one right when the situation was ripe for it. “It's called paopu fruit. The locals there, the islanders believe that if two people share one, then their destinies become intertwined.”

“You don't believe in stuff like that, Doctor.”

“It's mostly the children that believe in this legend. Siblings, friends, old friends, parents with their children.”

“You knew that even when we shared one?”

He put his finger to her lips again and chided her gently. “Stop interrupting. Yes, do you know why? I wanted it to be true, for us to keep going. And we have, haven't we? Oh, and Krop Tor, Rose!” His brain moved faster than his lips, which made Rose jump a little, but she smiled. Smiled! “Do you know what I told the beast in that pit? It's you that I believe in, Rose. Who else would I _need_ to believe in but you?”

Rose's smile grew wider with a shake of her head and a sigh. “Alright, alright, I get it.”

“Good.”

Rose grabbed the Doctor's free hand and fidgeted with his fingers. “Guessing you want to keep trying, then?”

“You're ridiculous,” he replied with a throaty chuckle.

“One more time?”

He brought her in closer, and grinned against her cheek when he noted that her vibrant little heart had returned to drumming out that salsa beat. He'd hugged her to comfort her, to ease away the tears. But this? Listening to that quickened rhythm, drinking in her one heart's resonance, this was all the comfort that he needed. He watched the fire dwindle to a few embers and coals, and found this to be rather appropriate because its warmth was no longer needed.

“It might be all we need,” the Doctor mused.

“What makes you say that?”

He dropped a kiss onto her hair and hummed, “Dunno. Feels like a good day.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose and the Doctor decide to have a baby together. After she becomes pregnant with his first womb born child, the Doctor realizes that he wants to raise a baby with more than just his best friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [allegoricalrose](http://allegoricalrose.tumblr.com/)'s baby!fic [prompt](http://allegoricalrose.tumblr.com/post/114087004514/ok-think-about-this-ten-rose-au-where-they-are).
> 
> Please note that this chapter is **NSFW**.

 

_“Guessing you want to keep trying, then?”_

_“You're ridiculous,” he replied with a throaty chuckle._

_“One more time?”_

_He brought her in closer, and grinned against her cheek when he noted that her vibrant little heart had returned to drumming out that salsa beat. He'd hugged her to comfort her, to ease away the tears. But this? Listening to that quickened rhythm, drinking in her one heart's resonance, this was all the comfort that he needed. He watched the fire dwindle of a few embers and coals, and found this to be rather appropriate because its warmth was no longer needed._

_“It might be all we need,” the Doctor mused._

_“What makes you say that?”_

_He dropped a kiss onto her hair and hummed, “Dunno. Feels like a good day.”_

 

 

Rose's mind was a little balloon drifting in the sky. It was wandering, being carried away by the breeze of a daydream, and it couldn't be made to drift back down the ground, not that it needed to. The library had fallen silent. Even the engine's dull humming was drowned out by the lull of the duet being played by the Doctor's two hearts strumming gently against her ear. They'd had cuddles before, but none like this, certainly not as deliberate. Even long after Rose calmed down the Doctor had stayed with her. He hadn't even fidgeted or wiggled under her weight. He was calm, and if his steady hearts beating weren't evidence enough, his even puffs of cool air into her hair certainly were. Rose couldn't remember feeling so much at peace in quite a long time.

It allowed her mind to wander to places it only went to when Rose was hidden away in the safety of privacy. Would the Doctor comfort his baby this way? Would he cradle him to his chest and lull him to sleep with its gentle rises and falls, with its quiet strumming in tune to the TARDIS's little hums? Would he press his cool lips to his baby's temple and whisper assurance to him as he did with her? Would he let his fingers rake soothing lines up the baby's tiny little spine, or hold him so close?

“Do you want to try the other way.. the traditional human method?”

Rose took a moment to force her eyes open and rouse her mind from its blissful slumber. For someone who seemed so cool and calm, the Doctor's voice trembled quite a bit, like a paper bag rolling in the wind. She'd probably misheard him.

“What?” Rose yawned. Well, she pretended to yawn and stretch. When she arched her back away from him and wiggled her fingers in the air reaching for the roundels on the ceiling she expected his hands to fly off their perch on her hips. It was an instant excuse for him to do what he always did: whip right around to a different topic and bounce up off of the couch. She even pictured it perfectly in her mind. But it's not at all what happened.

The Doctor's fingers dug into her waist as he muttered, “Sex.”

There was no mistaking that. Rose snapped her head back to the Doctor and let her hands fall to his.. where could her hands go now? Waist? No. Face? Absolutely not. Couch? Too close. Shoulders? They'd have to do. Well, she was awake now. And her mind began racing, competing with her heart in a pounding, heated footrace. How could he even be thinking about.. right. Rose looked down and remembered that she was straddling his hips.

Alright, fine. The Doctor _was_ a man of sorts, after all. Even if he looked every bit the part, it wasn't very often that Rose saw him this way. All of their playful flirting thus far had been just that, playful. It diffused tension in a way that simple chatter never could. (So how about the weather on that arctic planet? Abysmal, right?) Life on the TARDIS was a lot simpler without the entanglements created by liaisons.

Rose hoped that the Doctor never mistook how much she loved him. She'd never want to have a child with someone that she didn't. She loved him dearly, probably always had. And though she'd never felt so strongly for anyone before, she also loved Mickey, and Shareen, and Keisha in a way that wasn't too different. When she met her father she told the Doctor unequivocally that he was the most important man in her life. For a few years going now he'd been the _only_ man in her life. He was the only person in her life, period. There was nobody that she could fall back on if they had a falling out. Nobody but the child that inhabited the daydreams between them.

“Doctor, that's not a good idea,” Rose sighed, and moved her hands to his on her waist.

And he relented, but only to cup her face, as if her skin was water that would slip through his fingers. “Shouldn't we try anything?” He quirked an eyebrow at her and swallowed hard. She could hear him gulp, see his adam's apple dancing anxiously in his throat. His eyes were a metronome, moving back and forth on hers as if one might give him an answer before the other.

“And what happens in the morning?” she whispered as his face inched closer to hers. It had never been so easy to count his collection of chocolate freckles.

“Conception, I hope.”

As he cheesed a bit of a grin Rose could almost taste his breath as it brushed her lips. She didn't have the superior senses that he did, so she could only guess. It was sweet. And that was just it, wasn't it? He _was_ being sweet. This wouldn't have been a conversation they'd have had a few years back, that's for bloody sure. If she was to be so arrogant, she'd say she softened him a little. It didn't weaken her resolve enough.

“I'm serious though, Doctor.”

They both shifted like the tide when he took a deep breath and hummed, “Oh, another adventure, I suppose, hm?”

Her heart was pumping quickly, trying to fill her cheeks and her abdomen with heat at once. It was working, maybe, but also dizzying her a little. “Just like that?”

“Yup,” the Doctor croaked. He shifted under her and leaned back on the couch, bringing her with him.

There was no way she was properly awake. Sometimes she could have an odd fever dream. Maybe this was one of them. Only, it all felt so real. His every trembling breath cooling her skin was just that much more of a reminder. Was that the idea, why he wouldn't let her go? Did he know she was having to remind herself she was awake? Maybe it would be easier to pretend it was all a dream. Nothing came easily while traveling with the Doctor.

“Just promise me something, Doctor,” Rose sighed as she shifted off of his lap, and felt his hands struggling to let her go so she could sit next to him and slip out of her jacket.

The Doctor opened his mouth, shut it, and then grinned. “Of course.”

She looked up at him and scooped up his hand in hers. “Promise me that when all of this is over that we'll still be friends, you and me? That we'll be alright?”

He looked away, possibly at the offending piece of white plastic they'd disposed of on the end table next to the couch. It had started this whole conversation. Rose wondered if she'd be fumbling with the button on her denims if she'd listened to him in the first place and not bought a pregnancy test in the first place. Too late now. Well, she _could_ walk away, but what would that accomplish? The Doctor had raised a fair point in all this. But why, _why_ did this seem like a better option? Just as Rose was about to ask him, he sucked in a sharp breath and his gaze turned stony before he whipped his head back to her and grinned.

“Oh, we're always alright, you and me.”

She'd done it again. Something, at least. How long would they travel together before he realized she knew exactly what it meant when he swallowed his heart and then faked a toothy grin at her? Yes, his mood shifts came out of nowhere like a summer thunderstorm. But where he'd like her to believe the clouds had cleared away to sunshine, something always loomed overhead. The way he'd just grinned at her, his eyes fixed on hers like they could see right through her, reminded her very much of the few days after they'd left France and the 51st century. Typically, he didn't leave her long to dwell on this.

“So!” He made her jump as he clapped his hands and rubbed them on his pinstriped pant legs as if he could rub the anxiety off on them. “How do you.. I mean.. how would you like to.. well, there's _here_ , or we can.. a bit later? Somewhere else?” The Doctor barely paused to breathe as he rubbed the back of his head and furrowed his brow a little. “You know, it's worth, ah, mentioning that it's been a while since I've, you know.. a few centuries, maybe? A few bodies, definitely. Yup. Last time wasn't so.. Ooh, you know what, Rose? This body's a – ”

“It's a bit bright in here,” Rose murmured, just loud enough to cut through his nattering.

By the time she interrupted him, he'd shoved his fingers through his gelled hair so thoroughly that it looked as wild as a child's after waking from a restless sleep. Altogether very Doctor. He hummed at his jacket as he fished through its various pockets before he came up with a sonic screwdriver, which he then pointed at the ceiling. He brought the little device to life with a whir and a press of a button. As the blue light lit up, the various roundels on the walls dimmed until the sonic was serving as a torch. She then wondered if the Doctor had ever read Harry Potter.

“Mood lighting?” he teased.

“ _Not_ helping.”

He clicked his tongue on his teeth and winked at her. “Made you laugh though.” Rose shook her head at him in complete denial of the throaty giggle that she hadn't concealed well enough. “Oh come on, I don't bite. Unless..”

“Doctor!” Rose gasped.

He nudged shoulders with her. “There it is, a smile.” She rested her head on his shoulder, as if they were about to watch some telly like always. “Come on then, it won't be that bad. We don't even have to rush into it. We could take our time. I'm pretty knowledgeable with human rituals of foreplay, I think.” It was very possible that although he might not have seen her clamping her slacked jaw shut that he did notice her stop breathing. “Or we could get straight to the point. Your choice.”

“Um, the second one, if it's all the same to you, thanks.”

Rose fought the urge to bury her face in her hands. One was still clasping the Doctor's as if it was all that was keeping her from falling off a precipice. When she did let go, she sank into the couch, letting it all but swallow her up. She'd been sitting bolt upright until then, and hadn't realized it until she let go.

It was a ridiculous notion, whispering to him to close his eyes. He protested at first, until he saw her reaching for the buttons of her denims. And maybe he had two good reasons to protest. The first reason was the cause for her jittery, clammy fingers fumbling with the button. The usually innocuous sound of her zipper coming undone seemed to echo in the open silence of the library. The second reason hadn't crossed Rose's mind until she began to slide the tight-fitting garment down her thighs. The Doctor was more than likely going to be the one to deliver her baby, not to mention serve as her obstetrician. She couldn't imagine him letting anyone else even remotely close to his unborn child.

The thought flooded her entire face with warmth, and made her look up at him. The Doctor was resting his head on the couch with his eyes shut, but looking up at the ceiling. Until then she'd felt like he was looking right at her, staring at her through his eyelids. Now it seemed he was going over star maps in his head, naming each one as he simultaneously counted down the milliseconds until he could open his eyes again. And his forefinger tapping at one of his two bouncing legs was evidence enough. He was being more than fair, and a little bit too understanding. This moment where his armor was off and there were no consequences for their actions was bound to end at some point. Would he be as sweet the next time if this failed? A sinking feeling in her stomach made her doubt this. She ought to go a little easier on him, she thought.

It didn't make that last step easier. As Rose sank back down into the loveseat she longed for the warmth from the dying fire that would have had her thighs sticking to its leather. Her heart was hammering so persistently at her chest that she could scarcely breathe. And when she sucked in a breath through her nose it wasn't the scent of stale books that flooded her senses. It was just a hint of sandalwood mixed with ripe nerves and hair gel. In moments like this Rose forgot that the Doctor wasn't human. She practically kicked off her knickers as she longed for her normal life. Her heart might be pounding a bit quieter if she was running for it.

And the one person who might have offered her some comfort was the one she was supposed to face. How long had she been stalling on the loveseat as he fidgeted and kept his eyes obediently shut? Too long, probably. And he kept them that way even as she straddled his jittery legs. She dug her fingers into his shoulders, urging him to relax as he had before. They each swallowed a deep breath in unison before Rose helped him out of his jacket. And just to keep her hands busy she loosened his tie and undid his belt. Just as the metal clinked under her fingers, the Doctor snatched her wrists as his eyes fluttered open.

“Not yet, Rose,” he whispered, his voice gurgling as he released one of her wrists to set a hand to her bare thigh, and held it down as she flinched. “I don't want to hurt you.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but all that came out was a squeak. What could she say? There was nothing. All she do was breathe as his cold hand crept up the gooseflesh on her thigh. They were feeble attempts, not made easier by his other hand snaking up the hem of her t-shirt to brace itself on her back. Rose was certain she heard the Doctor telling her that it was just him and to tell him to stop if it became too much. It all came in a bit garbled, even when he sought permission to move further when his hand met the crease of her hip and thigh. She nodded, but also muttered something along the lines of, “you don't have to do this.” He responded to this with an urging to relax. He didn't ask for her trust, not verbally at least. In the dark all she could make out around them was the loveseat, but his face was very clear. She knew it very well anyway. There were times where she could see his previous one behind the scruff and freckles. She didn't need to in this moment as he pressed his palm to her mons. They may not have been that hue of pale blue that she sometimes sorely missed, but their gentleness was there in all of its comforting glory.

Rose perched her hands on the Doctor's knees behind her, granting him access. She dug her own knees into the crevasses between the couch cushions to keep from falling, even though his palm on the small of her back was reminder enough that he had her. She wasn't going anywhere. She wondered if he'd been waiting for the right moment to make a move, because the instant she closed her eyes his thumb brushed her clit. She jumped. Well, it felt like a jump. It was probably not much more than a flinch. Still, it was enough for the Doctor to notice.

“Easy, Rose,” he whispered.

He spoke to her as if she was a wild mare he intended to tame. She might have felt a bit like one, to be honest. Come to think of it, the Doctor probably _would_ be good with horses, she thought as she closed her eyes and breathed a sigh to reign herself back in. The image her mind produced contributed very little to this task.

“I just, it's been a bit for me, too,” Rose confessed as the Doctor's thumb began to map her clit in idle circles.

“Oh?”

“Not since before I got on the TARDIS,”

“Oh!”

He made no attempts at concealing the delight coating his voice. She couldn't be certain why. Though Rose hadn't felt the urge to date (much less shag) anyone since she began traveling with the Doctor, she never felt like she belonged to him. At least she could take comfort in knowing that he hadn't felt this way either, even if he could be a jealous pillock sometimes.

He didn't waste any time, and made it clear his discovering her clit was just a detour. But it was Rose, not the Doctor that was making this more difficult for them. She couldn't imagine he'd be upset by having a quick shag. And maybe this was quick, she thought. But it certainly didn't feel like it. It felt like eons since she'd kicked her knickers to the floor.

“Rose?” the Doctor prompted. She'd gotten a bit lost, so much that she didn't notice his finger easing into her sex. The dusty library's perpetual chill felt like a distant memory then as a wave of heat washed over her like a summer downpour. “I said is this alright?” She nodded meekly. “I don't want to hurt you. I don't know what the difference between Time Lords and human men are in regards to size.”

“Wait, really?”

“I don't make a habit of looking, Rose.”

“Suppose not.”

All it took was the escape of a sigh and one gentle rut of her hips for Rose's body to betray her. It had been so long, too long, since she'd been touched by a man. Her body didn't seem to care one lick that the man was the Doctor. Her clammy cheeks soaked up his bated breaths. Her sleek back leaned into his cool palm as she arched into his pumping finger. The warmth that was coiling deep in her abdomen didn't seem to mind one bit that they'd skipped a few vital steps to get to this point. The simple fact that the man who'd gotten her here was her best friend seemed to have no bearing on her now slick sex.

“Is this okay, Rose?” the Doctor asked as he slipped a second finger into her damp heat.

“Think I'm ready though,” she blurted out before she could censor her thoughts. Was she? This was news to her as much as it was the Doctor.

“Oh, alright.”

Though the library was dark, Rose would never forget the blush that colored the Doctor's face as his fingers retreated from her sex. And for a moment he stared at them, his lips curling into a hint of a frown before he wiped them on his trousers. He let her unbutton his trousers this time. She wouldn't deny it if he claimed she was a bit tightly wound. She hadn't realized it until that precise moment, but she was _very_ tightly wound. There was one small part of her (probably the bit that was now throbbing viciously) that was regretting not taking the Doctor up on his offer of foreplay, whether she'd admit to it or not. She certainly wouldn't, she thought as she shivered when she'd undone his zipper. He hissed when she pressed her hand to the bobbing length beneath his pants.

“Let me?” he murmured.

Rose sat up, not thinking about the fact that this task had her pressing her chest into his face. But as she felt his nose poking at her cleavage, she couldn't be too bothered by it because there were mere inches between her and the Doctor fumbling with his pants. He grunted and puffed a sigh as he sank back into the couch, his pants and trousers somewhere on the floor with hers. Or so she thought. She didn't look behind her. She was looking at something else.

“You might need to, want to.. um.. get this going, Rose? I'm not in the best position to align us properly. Unless you'd like to, ah, lie down? Maybe not best on this loveseat actually. There's the floor. But we're already set here, so maybe you could.. you know..” He then saw her looking. “Rassilon.. is it too small? I was worried it might be too, ah, too big, but if this won't work we can try something else. We might want to. I read that if – ”

Rose put her whole palm over his mouth to silence him. And then a chilled silence fell over the whole area, like a blanket of snow on a winter's night. She became acutely aware that she was sitting on his bare thighs. The rest of him might have felt like a bag of bones, but his thighs were soft, almost downy. “You're ridiculous,” she parroted back his earlier words to him in a whisper, “just like any other bloke, thinking we care about that? I don't. But for the record, Doctor, if it'd make you feel better.. it's..” what was a word she could use that couldn't be misconstrued? There was no helping this situation, not at all. “sizable.”

His brow furrowed as he looked down between them to consider her statement. “Is that good?”

For fuck's sake. “Don't worry about it, Doctor. Would you let me do this so we can get it done?”

“Yep,” he squeaked back at her, and shoved his fingers through his hair.

Rose lifted her hips and gently wrapped her fingers around his length. Until then she'd managed to be distracted from how intense her heartbeat had become. But now it was ringing in her ears, dizzying her. She fell into the Doctor, who wrapped an arm around her back to steady her.

“Oh, Rose,” he crooned as his head fell back onto the couch.

“Doctor? Something wrong?”

He opened his eyes and averted her gaze, looking down again at the pregnancy test they'd left on the end table. “No, I'm fine. Go ahead.”

Rose nodded and switched focus back to the task at hand, and lined her hips up with his as best she could. She missed the first time (it really had been a while), so she sat back up and let her slick folds rub along his shaft until she found her sweet spot. Her grip on the leather of the loveseat behind him was so tight she was grateful it wasn't his shoulder. And it didn't help nearly enough, given how sweaty her thighs had quickly become. She nearly slipped. The Doctor must have caught on, because his hands found their way to her hips and helped to ease them down to meet his. Just as Rose was about to moan a sigh, he bucked, sending a jolt of pain riveting through her core.

“Oh god, Rose,” he winced. “Rassilon, I'm so sorry Rose, are you okay?” He reached for her neck and held it to his shoulder as she bit down into his shirt.

“Fine,” she mumbled into his shoulder.

“It's..”

“I know. It's alright, really.”

And just to prove it, as pain began to mix with pleasure in a bittersweet cocktail of hormones, heat, and throbbing, she began to very gently rock her hips. Rose lifted her head from his shoulder and found the Doctor's glistening gaze. There he was again, the sweet and gentle Doctor, hands trembling as they reached to cup her hips again. It _would_ be that precise moment that Rose came to really appreciate that they were joined. She bit her lip as she paused to let it sink in, to let his cock throbbing against her tightening muscles send warm shivers up her spine to her balmy cheeks. Of course there was a greater cause to what they were doing. But it had be so _long_ since she'd been able to let so much bliss melt over her skin. And since they weren't going to do this again, she thought as she swallowed hard, there was nothing wrong with soaking up all of the pleasure. Right?

She leaned in to press her forehead to his as she ground her hips against his just a bit quicker. His forehead was slick, and warm against hers, but not as hot as the breath that was so close to her lips that she could kiss it. She could kiss him, could almost _taste_ the salt on his lips. But she stopped herself, feeling a pang of guilt for even considering it. She couldn't do that to the Doctor, not to someone she cared about so deeply. Even as she was shagging him on his own loveseat in a dark library so they could have a baby together, she worried about confusing him, hurting her friend's feelings.

He kissed her anyway.

And before Rose could protest, could even really _think_ , his lips – cool like ice cream but salty like chips – were claiming hers. His fingers dug into her hips as he pulled them down, making her yip against his lips as he sent a tremor of heat straight to her core. It might have been her own fault for leaning in so close. Maybe as she'd gotten lost swimming in his hot cocoa eyes he'd been plotting it out in his busy mind. It didn't matter. He'd done it, was nipping at her lip to make her stay as she began to pull back. She'd thought that the last kiss they had, the one she couldn't rightly take ownership of, would be their first and last. Parts of it were coming back to her, the way that her hips wanted to dig into his, how his hands coiled around her like boa constrictors. His lips were in a category of their own, eager and cool and possessive. Oh, and he was quick as a bunny. The moment she opened her lips (to breathe of course, she'd been perfectly innocent, honest), his tongue snaked into her mouth before she could argue. Her body struggled to keep up with the rush of stimuli he was offering her, as he was still moving, hips bucking and sending continuous waves of pleasure straight to her center. And she tried to be an active participant, sliding her tongue along his as he leaned his head into hers further, teeth crashing briefly. In that little moment it all became a bit too much, and her lungs started to ache in their craving for relief.

As Rose gasped and gulped down whole lungfuls of air she opened her eyes to find herself on her back, with the Doctor shifting between her legs for a powerful thrust that brought with it a gentle twinge of pain. But this time it was mixed with so much more pleasure, as he'd managed to find a good angle. She still winced, but it turned into something of a gurgled moan. He'd been right the first time in thinking the loveseat was too small. Yet the way they were scrunched up together was also perfect. Very _them_ , she concluded. He might have asked her if it was all okay, and she probably responded with a sort of affirmative gasp or sigh. She knew at least that she wrapped a leg around his back and dug her heel into his bum as her other leg fell limp, foot landing on the wooden floor with a thud.

The kisses that followed the first were considerably gentler, sweet little pecks that came in between him burying his face in her neck and t-shirt as he buried himself inside her over and over again. After a while, he gave in and simply moaned and sighed into her shoulder as she clawed at his shirt. Sometimes he missed his mark, making her hiss at him again. But it couldn't be helped for either of them. They were both feeling a bit lost, a bit drunk on lust for once, instead of some horrible concoction or hypervodka. It was a much more powerful and organic sort of intoxication that Rose was feeling as she kissed a spot on his neck behind his ear and learned it was a sweet spot of his. She eagerly drank up his moan of her name.

“Rose, I want to..” he mumbled a moment later, and shifted to press his thumb to her temple, but pulled back. “But I can't. I'm not going to.. maybe we can..?” She felt his adam's apple bobbing against her neck. “Oh, but we're not..”

She couldn't decipher exactly what he'd meant to say, so all she could respond with was, “It's alright, Doctor. I've got you, yeah?”

“Not without you, no. No way.”

She felt a bit thick that it took her a moment to gather what he was talking about. He rose to kneel on his knees and moved her thighs so he could reach between them to press a thumb to her clit. And it greeted him with such vigor that Rose nearly lost herself right then and there. She might have cooed his name, encouraging him. And just that little smile, the one that broke through the sulk that had fallen onto his face excited the hummingbird that had taken up residence in her chest. She swallowed another big heap of guilt that began to well up in favor of drinking in all of the pleasure he was trying to give her as his pace quickened. He was close. Rose captured the Doctor's hand that was bracing itself against the couch. She twined her fingers with his, thinking that maybe if she held his hand tight enough the wall they'd clumsily built around their tryst wouldn't crumble. He might have had the same thought, because he gripped her hand just as tightly.

In the end it was his eyes once again that did her in. She knew how old the Doctor was, but loved so much to forget that he wasn't a man in his 30s. He hiccuped, and his lips quivered, but it was those _eyes_ , glistening, dark, full of rage and sorrow but sweet as a fawn's that made her heart ache. She beckoned him in a whisper, “come here,” and threaded her fingers through his wild, damp tresses. She felt an urge, quite different from the one tugging at every nerve ending between her legs. This one had to offer him one last gift. A parting gift, as he slammed into her and emptied himself inside her. One little kiss, not claiming or needy or even remotely interesting compared to their first that evening. But Rose liked to think that it was sweet. It was a promise that they'd be alright, that she hadn't meant to take advantage of him, and to thank him for what he was doing for her.

 

-+-+-+-

 

Rose woke up in her bed, tucked under a whole pile of blankets that she hadn't remembered stashing away in her bedroom. She hadn't forgotten the time between her affair with the Doctor and waking up, no. It was just a bit foggy. But she must have fallen asleep at some point, she thought. She very distinctly remembered watching the Doctor pull his pants and trousers back on before ghosting out of the library without a word to her. She'd been the one to feel like she'd taken advantage of him. Yet he still came back to check on her. The crying part she _hadn't_ remembered until she rubbed her eyes awake and hissed. They were sore. But what for? It had to have been for him, for that look in his eyes that would keep her up at night for weeks.

And it did. Maybe not for weeks. If Rose counted up the hours it probably would have equaled several days. But they were several days without travel, mostly without the Doctor, and mostly without sleep. It was eerily reminiscent of the time they'd spent in limbo after the Doctor left Reinette behind. Only this time they hadn't lost anything. Rose didn't feel any heartache, not so much as she did guilt. When she tried to catch the Doctor to talk about it in the few times she could find him he dodged the subject entirely in his typical fashion. Then again, it was what she'd asked for. He was doing as she'd asked. This much she couldn't feel guilty about. That twinge of darkness and sadness in his eyes that night told her she'd made the right choice. She could never ask the Doctor to open up his heart to anyone. It had probably never worked out for him in the end. She wouldn't dare ask him to do that for her. She didn't want him to. She wanted her best friend, the goofy bloke whose shoulder she could always lean on, if she could just get him out of his rut.

It was almost enough for Rose to forget their first problem. Almost. There were nights where she wore bunny slipper trails all through her plush carpeting while pacing the room struggling not to pick up her spare pregnancy test. The Doctor had in some manner of unspoken terms told her to not try it again. He'd told her the first time she hadn't needed to. She broke that trust once already. She could feel him wanting to ask her if she really though he would hold back the jovial news from her. There was also the other side of the coin, not wanting to deliver the bad news to her.

Rose felt the pressure to come back with something after all that they'd put each other through. But this time, even if the sex hadn't been her idea, she'd never forget the way the Doctor had looked at her, as if the weight of the universe rested on her shoulders, and he'd put it there. There had to be a light at the end of the tunnel, because Rose couldn't bring herself to do that to the Doctor again. She'd maybe been a bit selfish thus far, imagining herself with a child. For once, what kept her up at night wasn't all of the horrors that they'd faced over the years, but her yearning to be able to put a baby – his baby – in his arms, with the hope that it would warm his hearts.

Finally, Rose was so tired after at least a week's worth of fitful sleep that she broke down and collapsed onto her bed from pure exhaustion. She slept for a good twelve hours, not unlike when she first began traveling with the Doctor. She'd never woken up with a worse case of bed head after it was all said and done, and it had never felt so good. After taking an inappropriately long hot shower and changing into proper adventuring attire (just in case, as it had been the past several days), Rose felt a renewed resolve to drag the Doctor out of his funk and at least _talk_ to him, because she had just one question that she hadn't thought to ask him.

And much to her surprise, for once he could actually be found in the console room, clad in his bright blue suit, eyes glued to one of the console monitors so much that she couldn't even see his face. It brought the goofiest smile to her face as she sighed relief and plopped herself into the jump seat to await their destination. As soon as he was done engaging the TARDIS in a staring contest (or working out what was wrong with the engine, whatever he was doing), they'd set off.

But in the mean time, while he was so invested in the TARDIS was the best time to ask him. He was one to answer a whole series of questions without even realizing while he was so engrossed in things. It came in handy sometimes.

“Doctor, I was wondering,” Rose announced.

“Hm?” he answered without looking up.

“We never really talked about it.” She shoved her hands into her trousers pockets to keep them from fidgeting too much. “The species,” she blurted out as quickly as her flapping tongue would allow. There she'd said it. Well, started. That could mean anything to him. “I mean, maybe I shouldn't have, I just assumed that it was like a nature thing, you know? Just thought it'd be a Time Lord, yeah? Superior species and all that? Right? Probably should have asked before diving into all of this, now that I think of it. But that's why you wanted to try...” she could clearly come up with a whole series of words in her mind, some of them delightfully lewd. But she opted for the more politically correct term. “Intercourse. Right? Time Lord stuff and all that?”

It all sounded like something that he'd rattle off. He had to appreciate that it wasn't something that was easy for her to ask him. It was so personal. Talking about his species and his planet factored into so few conversations that merely mentioning it felt taboo at times. But it was only fair, she thought, if she was to carry a baby Time Lord. Who knew what she was getting herself into? It was a bit idiotic. Gestation could be a year or two, she thought in horror. Maybe he would have warned her against it. But what if he was just as desperate as she was? What if he was the typical Doctor that didn't think to have this sort of conversation with her?

When the Doctor didn't immediately look up, Rose hopped off of the console in a bit of a huff, with every intention of spurting out her whole speech all over again, because he hadn't listened to the first. Midway through her march over to him at the monitor he looked up, and she saw his face for the first time in a couple of days. It was streaked with tears.

“The baby, Rose, is, ah, human. Always would be. I should have said,” he mumbled, lowering his specs to wipe on his jacket. They'd been foggy.

She marked his words carefully. “I'm sorry, say that again?”

“The baby is human.”

He looked up at her as he fumbled with his specs, dropping them on the floor. When he came back up after scooping them up off the floor, fresh tears were trailing down his face. Rose held her breath, if she'd even been breathing in the past few moments. Her chest tightening told her otherwise. She sought purchase on a coral strut behind her, clutching it for dear life with both hands. For a moment even the loud humming of the TARDIS's anxious engines could be drowned out by her own heart ringing into her ears. The Doctor shoved his glasses into his jacket pocket and reached out to her, reeling her into his arms so quickly she nearly tripped over his feet.

“Rose, you're pregnant,” he spoke into her shoulder as he crushed her in his arms.

“Wait, is that what you're looking at?” Rose craned her head to look down at the monitor, but all she saw was pink, Gallifreyan, and something resembling a bubble in the corner of the monitor.

“You're pregnant!” he repeated, as if she hadn't heard him the first time.

This time he picked her up and swung her about in his arms. They were their own carousel, twirling about, and the music came from the three hearts (soon to be four) singing between them.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose and the Doctor decide to have a baby together. After she becomes pregnant with his first womb born child, the Doctor realizes that he wants to raise a baby with more than just his best friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [allegoricalrose](http://allegoricalrose.tumblr.com/)'s baby!fic [prompt](http://allegoricalrose.tumblr.com/post/114087004514/ok-think-about-this-ten-rose-au-where-they-are).

_“You're pregnant!” he repeated, as if she hadn't heard him the first time._

_This time he picked her up and swung her about in his arms. They were their own carousel, twirling about, and the music came from the three hearts (soon to be four) singing between them._

 

 

The next several weeks flew by. At times she felt like she was standing completely still while the whole universe spun around her at lightning speed. The past several months had gone by achingly slow, so maybe everything had really just returned to normal. The way that the Doctor took her by the hand and whisked her off from place to place certainly felt reminiscent of normal. They barely stopped to rest at each turn, as if they were in a race and he could see the finish line. All in all, Rose had never felt more exhausted in her life, which after traveling with him was a feat in and of itself.

She lost count of everywhere that they went in those first few weeks. Traveling had never felt like so much of a blur. It all blended together, a mental canvas painted with purple trees, carnivals in the sky suspended on airships, broccoli flavored cotton candy, and crossing a sea on the back of a creature similar to an elephant. It could have all easily been a hormone-induced fever dream, except that the Doctor's hand was in hers nearly the entire time. When they held hands, danger taking all the air from her lungs and exhilaration beating right from her palm to his it always felt too real to be a dream. She never held any illusion that they were safe, but the way that he always had to look to her with a grin as he swept her away seemed like a promise that he'd make it so. That _they_ would make it so.

In the brief moments that they stopped to breathe Rose would look in a mirror and see her normal self, everything in appearance unchanged. It even felt as though her body hadn't yet been clued into what was going on, what she was going to put it through. But she knew she wouldn't stay that way for very long. Some times she'd look up at a foreign sky as they scrambled back into the TARDIS and made a silent wish that as long they ran it would stay this easy. The Doctor must have shared her concern that they'd reach a point where time travel wouldn't be safe for her. Well, Rose figured that she could always handle herself. But she had a sneaking suspicion tugging at her heartstrings that hell would freeze over before the Doctor would willingly put his unborn child in any danger.

Rose wanted to pretend as though the Doctor's sudden upturn had nothing to do with her. It would certainly feel much less conceited. She cherished the moments they'd had together when the Doctor was so pleased with the universe that he danced around the TARDIS beaming at her like Father Christmas. Though he was always a jolly sort, those moments had always been few and far between. Would it be really horrible for Rose to think he was so much happier now because she was pregnant? Maybe, Rose pondered, the Doctor's new mood, beaming at her with glistening eyes and dancing about the console room was his way of celebrating that they'd finally won again. It had just taken longer this time.

He left no room for them to talk about it. That was typical of course. That they'd talked as much as they had while trying for a baby was monumental, and probably anomalous. Trying for a baby. Even thinking about it still flooded her face with warmth. That first night, when the Doctor slipped into her room unbidden to drop off his sample as she slept because he couldn't hand it to her in person still played over in her mind on a daily basis. It was a quiet night, so quiet that she could hear her heart pounding into her ears. They never spoke of these nights, even when the Doctor became just a little bit braver. If it hadn't been for needing to check to see if they were successful, it would have felt as though they weren't trying at all.

It had been more or less the same with Rose's pregnancy, at least for the first few weeks. The fog of stress that had settled between them slowly cleared and gave way to the buzzing excitement they shared when they first met. Rose had many questions for the Doctor, but there was so much going on that she never felt the time was right to ask. When she did she was too exhausted to bring it up. She placed all of her trust in the Time Lord. In the grand scheme of time travel, her health had only changed its status in a minor way. And her feeling completely safe placing it in the Doctor's capable hands hadn't changed either.

Rose hadn't realized she was on a bit of a high until her sixth week, when she came crashing down. The Doctor wrestled with the TARDIS's controls to land in a marketplace they frequented, and ended up plummeting to the planet's surface both several miles and years off course. After the first sudden lurch in flight, Rose moved to lay on the floor, a much more stable than her perch on the jump seat, if a bit absurd-looking. As the engine struggled, its familiar hollow wheezing sank to a sickly groan. Just listening to it, so thick and low, made her want to sink into the grated floor and swallow the pit that stuck in her throat. They could have taken all of this as a sign. But did they ever?

The Doctor's foot slid as he dashed to Rose's side, nearly crashing into her himself. He pulled her up into his arms and brushed her off. Much like the engine had, Rose's stomach lurched, and she grounded herself in his dusty trenchcoat as he buried his face in her hair. She might have heard his hearts racing from across the console room before they slowed back down to an even canter.

“I'm fine, Doctor. It's not our first rough landing,” Rose told him as she wiggled out of his arms. “We've had worse. My bum is still sore from the races last week. This was nothing.”

“Hm,” he grunted, and rubbed away the knots of confusion on his face. He paused for a beat, making that filing-something-away face before clapping his hands together. “Right! Shall we?”

“You don't want to check on the TARDIS, make sure she's okay?”

He curled his lips into a playful frown, considering the thought for a moment before he grinned and told her, “Nah. I'm sure she's just fine. I think the rotor's just a bit worn out. Tired. Could use some rest, I think. She'll be just fine.”

Everything seemed to crash that day, including Rose into a rather important temple altar a few hours later. They hadn't been pushing themselves too much, but Rose's body didn't seem to care one lick. She crashed, hard, and awoke with the Doctor in a jail cell some time later. She could say several hours. It was dark, but on foreign planets that meant absolutely nothing. A day alone could consist of only a few hours.

She was disoriented at first, thinking they were on the TARDIS, since she felt like a little paper sailboat being kicked about on choppy waters. This was before she realized she was lying still in the Doctor's lap. Her body was cradled safely between his pencil thin legs. Her shirt was hiked up a little, exposing her belly to the moldy, damp air of whatever hold they found themselves in. The Doctor seemed to be propped up against a wall, something cold like stone, with his metronome knees bumping her bum every few seconds. She couldn't rightly say how she knew where they were before even opening her eyes, taking most of her cues from the calm and cool body cradling hers. It was eerily reminiscent of another time Rose woke up with the Doctor in a jail cell, except this time she felt like rocks had settled into her stomach. And they were churning in their efforts to rise into her gullet.

“Best go back to sleep. We're not going to be released until morning,” the Doctor murmured to her. So she was right. They were in a jail cell.

Rose swallowed hard, chasing after a skipped breath that came out as a pant. “Can't, I'm feeling a bit sick.”

His fingernails were raking through her hair, making neat rows on her scalp, and it felt divine. She closed her eyes and sighed on a hitched breath. “I know, you got some on the floor there a couple hours ago.”

“I don't remember,” Rose's eyes flew open, and she looked up at her companion. His eyes were closed too. She had dreams about this Doctor, the calm one whose brain must have been moving at a mile a minute but never showed it.

“You were pretty out of it. You haven't eaten much today, you shouldn't need to go again,” he noted, his eyes cast upward to the rock ceiling. “After they brought us down here I gave you something to help you sleep. Figured if -”

“Is it safe for the baby?” Rose lifted her head and asked.

He pulled her back down, and started rubbing her temples, maybe to encourage her to not sit up again. “Of course it is. Safer than that coffee you slipped in this morning.”

“I ate that salad like you said. Fat lot of good it did, if it's on the floor now. I just wanted one coffee. Just to help perk me up is all. That was it, my last one.”

The Doctor chuffed at her. “I don't need to tell you what caffeine does, Rose. I shouldn't have taken you out after you had that cup, seeing how tired you were.”

“I wasn't though. I felt fine.”

“You've been pushing yourself, and I've been letting you.”

She let her shoulders sink into his thighs, wanting to curse his gifted fingers for their ability to turn her into a puddle in his lap while he admonished her.

“It's early on, though. I mean, most women don't even know they're pregnant at this stage, Doctor. They wouldn't think to act any different.”

She was fighting a losing battle, but still he indulged her. “Most people don't spend each day running from angry temple monks. You destroyed one of their idols when you passed out, by the by. Thankfully their idol so happens to be blonde, like you. Else we might be on the chopping block right now and not in a cell. Good thing, too. We can't use your pregnancy to get out of trouble just yet.”

Rose paused and held her stomach in a ridiculous attempt to keep whatever it contained right where it belonged. She let a squeaky whimper escape her dry lips when she felt a pit rising in her throat. The Doctor's hand brushed hers aside and made a cool compress on her belly. So that would explain her shirt being ridden up, she thought. They'd been in tight situations before. At times Rose would be fighting off some manner of alien illness while trapped with the Doctor. But he'd never been quite so attentive.

She already was thinking how absurd it was that he was so good at this when he fished something out of his trenchcoat. Something strikingly yellow. Surely he didn't. “Is that.. a banana?”

“If you're not going to sleep, then you should eat, keep up your strength. I've said it before,” he rolled his eyes and replied as he ruffled his hair back into his preferred rebellious spikes. “Bananas are good. It'll settle your stomach a little. It's all I've got.”

Rose closed her eyes and groaned. Her stomach turned at the thought of ingesting anything, let alone a bloody banana of all things. Of course he'd keep a banana in his coat. “You've got something else, I can smell it, Doctor.”

“You must be feeling better, if you're still talking. D'you feel more rested?”

“No really though, Doctor,” Rose sat up a bit and peered into his coat.

Again, he pulled her back down. And he was within his rights to, as her stomach somersaulted just from this movement alone. “I'll say this. If there was any doubt that's my child you're carrying, we stamped it out a few hours ago. The ginger snaps stayed put for all of a few minutes. About 300 seconds, give or take a few.”

Rose's face heated up, as if she'd stepped in front of a bonfire. She closed her eyes and imagined him in the library with her, somber ancient eyes tugging at her heart as he gave her his little gift. The memory was just as vivid as it had been only hours after. Her hand dropped to her abdomen, and she turned her head away as if it'd keep him from looking. It didn't change the facts. They'd never established any rules. A couple having a baby wouldn't need to. As Rose rubbed her abdomen beneath his hand on her belly she came to realize one fact. No other man would lay claim to this child. Neither of them would tolerate that idea. So it was only fair for the Doctor stake his claim. It was an idea that she didn't consider when they first thought about having a child together.

“You said the baby's human though, Doctor,” she muttered against his coat.

“Still has my genes though, mind you. Ginger's never sat well with my people.”

“It's early on, though,” she argued.

“If you'd like to prove me wrong, challenge this theory, by all means. Go ahead. But the banana is much less likely to do any harm than the ginger snaps.”

She snorted at him and squirmed a little to get comfortable. She may as well while he was offering, so that his knees would stop kicking her sides. “Why did you bring them, then?”

“I was curious.”

He peeled the banana for her and handed her a third of it to nibble on, which she did in companionable silence. For a few minutes the only sounds Rose heard were the dripping from the stone ceiling and the peaceful turns of the Doctor's stomach. It took some convincing on her part to get her stomach to settle enough to accept the little bites of banana. Part of it might have been her own stubbornness. She personally disliked bananas. It had absolutely nothing to do with the one time he came stumbling back to her from a time window having gotten nearly pissed on banana daiquiris with a bunch of stuffy old French people.

“You'd been slowing down quite a bit in the past week or so. I don't think you noticed,” the Doctor spoke up after a good while of silence. It could have been a few minutes, half an hour, maybe longer. She might have even drifted off once or twice.

“Why didn't you say anything?” Rose shifted in his lap, hugging one of his legs a bit. He didn't answer this. She certainly wouldn't have listened to him, and he didn't need to say it. “This where the fun stops, then?”

“Oh, I'm perfectly willing to work with you. But it occurs to me, Rose. There's someone else you're not considering in all of this.”

Rose felt a flurry of warmth traveling coursing through her as she closed her eyes and smiled. The Doctor's fingers crept just a couple inches south on her stomach, testing out her limits as a child's foot would cool waters. Her own hand rested just beneath the waistband to her shorts, and she decided as his hand crept closer to it that she didn't want him there. It was a horrible thought after all they'd been through. But she acted before she could really weigh all of the pros and cons. She captured his wandering hand in hers.

“For the record I was speaking of the TARDIS.”

“You said the rotor's a bit worn out,” Rose fought him again.

“I've had some time to think. I think she might be a bit worried, Rose.”

She didn't press him on this, as curious as she was about what was going on with the TARDIS. She was still so knackered, and with her stomach getting into a heated debate with her over the banana she had very little energy to carry on a conversation as it stood. She had more pressing concerns, things that had been keeping her up at night.

“Doctor, I was wondering..” Rose changed topics a moment later. “We've not talked about obstetrics.”

“I know you might want to see a medical doctor for this, Rose. But you can't.” He shifted beneath her, making her acutely aware of just where her arm lay between his legs in a way she wouldn't have paid any mind before. “The baby might be human, but with her carrying my DNA it's too risky to take her into a doctor's office where they might take samples and work out that she's not completely normal. My blood can't be in a hospital. It's a safe bet that hers can't either. That, and I don't want a stupid ape anywhere near my child or her mum. Alright, Rose?”

Rose felt a grin tugging at her chapped lips. She couldn't help it. He almost carried that same accent as her first Doctor when he hissed the words with a pronounced grimace on his face. She didn't let herself think about the words that followed, the ones that her made feel dizzy lying still in his lap. She needed the whole nine months to get used to that idea. Maybe that's why it takes so long to grow a baby, Rose considered.

“Wait, the baby's a girl?” Rose cooed.

“Oh, it's far too early for that yet, Rose,” he chuckled but beamed down at her with a smile that could have made her forget they were huddled up in a dank, dark and rancid-smelling jail cell on a planet whose name she couldn't even recall (if he ever even told her). “I was just taking it out for a spin. I like the sound of it, I think. A little girl? Hmm, TARDIS might like that too, don't you think?”

Rose nuzzled the Doctor's thigh as she giggled. Her stomach lurched and threatened to expel its contents and the Doctor's efforts, but she couldn't be too bothered. In that little moment the hammering of her heart at her chest outweighed her stomach's tantrum. She hadn't considered conversations like this at all when they were trying for a baby. This was a man that didn't talk to her often on such a personal level. This was a centuries-old, godlike being she'd been friends with for so many years, saving the universe with, because that was far more important. And here he was, grinning from ear to ear with those dimpled cheeks that raised gooseflesh on her skin, practically gushing over the thought of being a father to a baby girl.

“You want a girl, then?” Rose braved after she gulped down a hiccup.

He sighed and hummed, calculating his answer, and shook his head. “I want a safe pregnancy, a healthy baby, and a happy mum, is what I want, Rose Tyler.” He didn't wait more than a few heartbeats to add, “And I want my child to have a face that's just as red when they're embarrassed like this, too.”

Rose was a bit (maybe more than a bit, maybe a lot) proud of herself for managing to blurt out her thoughts on this before she was reduced to a pile of blushing mush in his lap. Giggling, she replied, “Doctor, you're going to be a daddy.”

 

-+-+-+-

 

And the Doctor knew that Rose hadn't been entirely sincere when she said it. He did, really. He knew this, and reminded himself of this as he helped her finish the banana he'd packed for their travels that day. All the same, the words would never have held even a little candle to the bonfire lit inside him when Rose spoke them.

He'd done so well in keeping his cool thus far, staying calm, not acting like a nervous wreck at all. And that was hard when he had to carry her unconscious body to the jail cell. Well, their captors fought with him on that one. It didn't matter to them that she was blonde, not like it did to the monks. Was this how it would be for the next several months every time somebody came near Rose? He wasn't even allowed all of the liberties that most fathers were. He could claim fatherhood over her child with words (something he hadn't even realized he'd been ready for), hold her hair when she fell to morning sickness (humans and their inefficient nomenclature), see to it that she take care of herself (as well as his precious child), do whatever he could to support her.

But Rose made certain he understood there were limitations and boundaries. And as she slumbered, lying still as a newborn kitten curled in his lap, he'd certainly respect them. She drifted off as he was telling her about the finer points of the ultrasound machine the TARDIS had installed in the infirmary (a nice little addition that the ship had surprised him with). The Doctor was in it for the long haul, for the baby and for Rose. She'd make the rules, he'd allowed her. In human cultures that was how it worked.

The Doctor's hand sat on Rose's stomach as she slept, aching to inch just a little bit further south to her abdomen. When he closed his eyes he imagined the belly beneath his palm growing to accommodate the womb that would soon be there. Would he have a reason to be touching it then? Would he be allowed if there wasn't one? He began to devise clever ways to come up with excuses while he awaited their release from jail. Rassilon help him if Rose was the sort of woman that would spend her pregnancy wearing dresses. There'd be no working with that at all. Could he perhaps convince the TARDIS to hide them all from her? Would that be childish? Did he care?

He didn't care nearly enough to stop himself from devising his own clever little plans. As Rose said, he was going to be a daddy. He had responsibilities, and not just to the little creature so very close to his hand, the one that he was already plotting out TARDIS piloting lesson plans for. Whether she'd agree with him on the assessment or not, he realized that very day that he had responsibilities to the little one's mother, too. 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose and the Doctor decide to have a baby together. After she becomes pregnant with his first womb born child, the Doctor realizes that he wants to raise a baby with more than just his best friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [allegoricalrose](http://allegoricalrose.tumblr.com/)'s baby!fic [prompt](http://allegoricalrose.tumblr.com/post/114087004514/ok-think-about-this-ten-rose-au-where-they-are). 
> 
> As a warning, this chapter has a slightly angsty moment towards the beginning.

_He didn't care nearly enough to stop himself from devising his own clever little plans. As Rose said, he was going to be a daddy. He had responsibilities, and not just to the little creature so very close to his hand, the one that he was already plotting out TARDIS piloting lesson plans for. Whether she'd agree with him on the assessment or not, he realized that very day that he had responsibilities to the little one's mother, too._  

 

Eighteen weeks into her pregnancy, Rose discovered that there were two myths surrounding morning sickness. She'd already gathered that it didn't just happen in the morning, but was more than a little disappointed to discover that it also didn't just happen in the first trimester. She learned that her growing child didn't share her love of chips, or pears. But the latter was her own fault. She'd been warned. Evidently it didn't matter that her baby wasn't a Time Lord, he still shared in some of his father's quirky anatomy. They hadn't yet learned the sex of their baby, so Rose had adopted the Doctor's growing habit of flopping personal pronouns where he saw fit. Robbed of ginger as a curative for her stomach ills, she developed a new fondness for peppermint. The TARDIS made certain that peppermint tea greeted her as she woke up each morning.

The ship was also fiddling with her wardrobe. And perhaps she should have been a bit grateful. The Doctor suffered through her first fit when she learned that her tight-fitting denims wouldn't fit her anymore. She tried so hard to get them to button before the niggling worry that she was suffocating her child crossed her mind. Maybe it didn't work that way, but what if her baby was born with a misshapen head because she'd tried in vain to fit into her favorite pair of denims?

The Doctor tried to be kind, offering her a hug where words failed him. And she couldn't rightly fault him for not knowing what to say to his companion with the raging hormones and a growing baby that hadn't yet been born but was quickly becoming a picky eater. She regretted not taking that hug later, when the Doctor very coolly told her that she wasn't coming with on their next journey. She couldn't fault him for this either. Why bring along someone that was acting very much like the little life she was carrying? The TARDIS began hiding her clothes that very day. She had no way of knowing whether she'd see them again. But it reminded her of a new problem that was presenting itself: where to get clothes that _would_ fit her?

Something about the way that the Doctor had begun staring at her told Rose that she wouldn't find maternity clothes aboard the TARDIS. She'd like to think that he didn't mean to stare. Maybe as he eyed her growing bump behind his glasses he was examining her, making sure she was healthy? Could he even do that by just looking? She wouldn't discount the idea, not after learning that he could discern where she was on her cycle without even looking at the TARDIS's scans. He had to have been around pregnant women before. She might not have even believed him when he'd told her, barely above a whisper in his dusty old study, that he'd never fathered a child born of a womb. She definitely did when she began to show. And at eighteen weeks, either she was having a big baby or she just wasn't that good at hiding it.

She insisted that he didn't need to accompany her on her clothes shopping ventures. She could have just flat out said that she didn't _want_ him accompanying her. Shopping for maternity clothes should have been something she'd do with her mum, who wasn't available. Save for her, maybe Shareen or Keisha, even Mickey if he could be convinced to behave himself (or pay attention). But the Doctor? Rose shuddered. He may have dressed himself rather smartly, but what good would he be helping Rose shop for clothes to fit her as she got bigger? The thought produced a rather pronounced grimace to her face as they strolled into a department store.

“I'm going on a bit of a wander. Shall I come find you in a couple hours?” the Doctor prompted as they made their way over to her section of the store.

“What, you've got your own list? Wait, are you going _shopping_ , Doctor? Like, proper shopping, with a list? Are you buying clothes?” Nothing cheered her up more than making the Time Lord squirm with her teasing.

He put on his glasses and studied the giant lit map before him, squinting at it to squeeze out all of its mysteries. He trailed a finger along the staircase, but stopped midway when he saw her looking, plucking his finger back to push up his glasses. “I shop,” he defended. His tone matched his furrowed brow, low and straight. He wasn't at all playful like she'd been. “Have you got enough money for what you need?”

“Unlimited credit, yeah. You boosted it the last time we went shopping.”

They opted for a store in Rose's future. She hadn't felt like returning to her Earth since Canary Wharf. That, and the shop girls of the future seemed to understand Rose's need to shop alone. She didn't need some young girl much like herself trying to up-sell her clothes that she didn't need so they'd get a sweet commission off of her. Maybe she wouldn't mind so much if they weren't so nosy.

Except that today would be that one day Rose would run into the one nosy shop girl in all the galaxy. She would have that luck. An hour into her picking through clothes racks looking for attire that was suitably conservative while still making her feel good about herself, the woman popped up with that sterile smile glued to her face like a child's artwork. Rose had been doing well for herself, loading up her forearm with a decent stack of clothes.

“You look like you need help, dear,” the woman said after she took the stack of clothes off Rose's arm. She seemed harmless enough. But a middle-aged shark could deal just as much damage as a young one, she reminded herself.

“I'm fine, thanks,” Rose replied, reaching out for her clothes.

“Let me deposit these on the counter for you, hmm? You're carrying enough as it is.” She followed this with a wink, tucking her warm eyes into little crows feet. It was as though their brief exchange promoted her to friendship status. Or she was just that nice.

“Is it that obvious?”

“Maybe not to the untrained eye, if that helps. Just a moment, dear,” she soothed, and disappeared past a few racks to return empty-handed. “It's alright to feel a bit lost. Is this your first one?” She nodded to Rose's little bump, what she thought had been cleverly hidden behind the hoodie she'd knicked from Mickey when he'd been aboard the TARDIS.

First? Rose's eyes went wide. The notion that she could have more than one child hadn't actually crossed her mind. Her hand fell to her stomach, something she felt she was finally allowed to do now that she was beginning to show a little. It was still early on, she had thought. Then again, she was only a week and a half shy of the halfway mark. She'd been carrying this little thing beneath her hand for a whole season. If she'd been on Earth, she might have liked to give birth to a winter baby. Would this child be okay with being the only one? Would he want a sibling to play with? Would she rather be by herself? What would the Doctor want? He'd cringed at the idea of going domestic before. The idea that he'd ever be a father seemed to be foreign. And yet here she was, thinking about what _his_ child might want.

“Yeah,” she muttered, swallowing hard.

“Something wrong?” The woman leaned in, laying a hand to her shoulder. Her voice was as smooth as honey, lacking any sort of malice, throwing Rose off guard. She might have shrugged or nodded. She couldn't be certain which. “Oh, sweetheart, it's been a while since I've run into a sad mum. My apologies, this must be hard for you. You came in with that handsome gentleman, so I thought..”

“Mum,” Rose sighed.

She would have loved for the first woman to call her that to be her mum, and not some sympathetic stranger in the maternity section of a far off department store. She hadn't even been thinking of her mum until the lady mentioned it. And for a while Rose had told herself that she was okay. Her mum had always supported her, even if she didn't agree with her decisions. Her mum had wished her happiness. And Rose was okay with saying goodbye. But this was before she knew she was going to be a mum herself. Her mum would have been able to help her through her entire pregnancy and motherhood beyond. She'd be able to tell her why her breasts were sore even before they grew a cup size bigger. She'd be able to explain why she didn't feel at ease until certain necessary food items were in the TARDIS's pantry (nothing remotely healthy, mind). Her mum might be able to explain why she was already starting to feel achy even though her baby was still so tiny. Rose would actually be able to _talk_ with her about such sensitive issues.

Holidays. Holidays were such a big deal in the Tyler household. She imagined her mum raking her over the coals for skipping even one. Her mum would have new license to give the Doctor a hard time for being skinny or not taking care of himself. She would buy their child all manner of noisy toys that would keep her (and her poor parents) up at night. She would shout the roofs down for even suggesting they put her precious grandbaby in any danger, and insist on taking him for a few days if they must act reckless. Never she worry about the Doctor being overprotective, her mother could teach him a lesson or two. She would love Rose's child fiercely.

Rose would live without all of that. Just realizing this, truly and fully understanding this, made her insides feel as though they'd been torn apart. She clutched her womb even as her face clammed up and her grief began to streak down her cheeks and neck in hot tears. She became vaguely aware of the shop girl disappearing, leaving Rose alone in the middle of the store to bawl her eyes out. The woman had meant well, even if she was a bit tactless. But as it turned out, it wasn't her company that Rose found herself aching for in that moment.

A moment (maybe, probably longer) later he was barreling up to her, heaving and coughing as if he'd never run before, crashing into the rack of blouses next to her and dropping his full shopping bag. His hands fell to his knees, as if the weight of his worries was bringing him down to the floor. He only took a moment before he stood up and reached out for her hands, plucking them from her mascara-stained face. She felt his eyes darting around her, looking for any clues before he spoke.

“Rose!” He puffed. “What's wrong? Are you feeling ill? Cramping? Aching? Is something wrong with the baby? Are you alright?”

Rose's trembling lips struggled to part. His concern only made the tears flow that much faster. She opened her mouth to speak, but could only utter a squeak. She swallowed hard and hiccuped. “Baby's.. baby's fine..” she bleated finally. It might have been a stretch, because Rose sharing her stresses with the baby probably wasn't good. “I.. I'm..” But she shook her head. She couldn't bring words to how she was feeling. She already felt like a blithering idiot, breaking down in public, every passing eye falling to her and making her feel every bit of their pity. “Mum.”

He must not have needed her to elaborate any further, because he pulled her into his arms and hushed her. “Shh,” he whispered into her ear as he rubbed her back. Rose buried her face in his jacket and coat. She didn't want him to see it, not the face of an emotional, hormonal pregnant woman. It would only validate his concerns that she was weak. She was better than this, she'd just had a single moment of weakness. Now she'd have to prove to him later that she wouldn't be a complete wreck, that they could still carry on traveling as always for at least another couple of months, if he'd even been planning on letting her in the first place.

“I know I'm not Jackie,” the Doctor whispered into the same spot on her head where he'd dropped several kisses. “But I'm here, always. Look at me, Rose.” He pulled back and tugged at her chin. Oh, she wanted to fight him, even as she felt her body melting into his. But she didn't. He freed her chin in favor of wiping her cheeks with both of his thumbs. He rubbed under her eyes, daring more tears to escape them, even as her breaths fumbled over his even ones onto her nose. “I'm here.” And before she could stop him, his hand fell to her womb, massaging it gently, greeting its tiny inhabitant for the first time. “For you and the baby.”

Rose nodded. She opened her mouth to speak, but what could she say? Nothing so monumental or articulate. She felt the Doctor's fingers tugging at the hems to her shirt and hoodie, wanting to sneak under to greet his child properly. But they were in public, and as head fell into her shoulder, he seemed to come to this realization himself. He balled his fingers into a fist, perhaps grappling with whether he really cared before he gave in to her hand that was pulling his away.

“Let's go home,” he whispered in a sigh.

“I'm not done yet.”

He rubbed her shoulders. “Then how about you go sit down in one of those cushy chairs and I'll finish?”

“But you don't know-”

He put a finger to her lips. “Trust me?” She nodded. “Then go relax for a few minutes, Rose,” he urged, and swung his coat over her shoulders.

The Doctor may as well have told her to do calculus in her head. But she obliged, and sat down in one of the leather chairs situated around a coffee table nearby. She was placing her attire in the hands of a Time Lord. What did he know about a human woman's clothes? More to the point, how would he even know her size? She didn't really know, however, just how much she needed a sit until she sank into the chair and sighed. It could have engulfed her and her sore muscles. She hugged his coat to her face. He'd put on cologne that morning. Its wooden crispness spread comfort over her like a familiar old blanket. She'd previously only known the comforts of his hair gel and moldy book aroma when they'd hugged. It was almost intoxicating, feeling enveloped by the scent of pure Doctor. She felt her eyelids falling heavier with each trembling breath shaking off the last of her tears.

“Rose?” Something nudged at her shoulder. “Rose? All done, it's time to go home.”

Of course she fell asleep. As Rose groaned and stretched away her drowsiness she looked around and first laid eyes on an array of shopping totes at her feet. In her slumber she'd been entrusted with guarding their purchases, she surmised. She closed her eyes again and smacked her lips together before she looked at the Doctor. He was knelt down before her and smiling even as she wiped a bit of drool off her chin.

“Home?” Rose yawned.

“Yup. All done. I'll grab these,” he answered, and scooped up all of the bags, looking like an overburdened bellhop as he stood up.

“I'll make something for lunch. Or dinner. Whatever time of day it is.”

The Doctor began walking the instant she unstuck her skin from the pillowy leather chair. “We're going out tonight, Rose. My treat. We ought to go some place nice for once, don't you think? There's a _gorgeous_ beachfront place on Mara 4, and the sand there is green, Rose! All of the quartz on that planet is green. Haven't been there since.. oh I think I had gray hair back then. Oh, and the food there, you'd love it. They've got something like chips that I think won't upset your stomach, Rose. And the view is _perfect_ , beautiful.” He paused to shudder, and looked back at her to make certain she was still following. “That is if you and your stomach feel up to it?”

“I dunno, Doctor. I'm a bit knackered,” she lied. She felt quite refreshed. But the look of hope in his eyes was unrivaled. He didn't often care for her opinion when it came to their next destination. And food was usually incidental while traveling.

“It'll be relaxing. I'll park the TARDIS right up front. You won't have to walk far or lift a finger.”

He said all of this while buried behind a pile of shopping bags. This was after he calmed her down and hugged her in the middle of a giant store. After he gave her his coat to cuddle with while he went off to buy her clothes. That couldn't have been the easiest task for any man, let alone one as out of touch as the Doctor. Rose was just a bit thankful he was ahead of her, unable to see her face as she blushed when she saw a bag full of bras and knickers. Hell would freeze over before even her oldest friend Mickey would buy her lingerie.

The Doctor would never pressure her, never push her. As much of a flake as he could be, he was also a man of his word. Even if this was a date, she still felt she could trust him to not push her. He always knew what she needed. And right then she needed to get away and forget. She did need to relax. He'd been so sweet to her. It wasn't at all fair that he'd start acting this way once she was carrying his child, leaving her to wonder. Not that she was going to.

“Give me a couple hours?” Rose asked once they were back on the TARDIS and the Doctor had deposited the shopping on her bed.

“So you'll come?” the Doctor asked in her doorway. He was bouncing on his feet like he was itching to run. Even with so many layers on she could still see his chest fluttering like a bird's wings in flight, waiting on bated breaths.

“Yeah,” Rose nodded, holding up a t-shirt against herself that he'd picked out.

His reaction was ingrained in her memories instantly. His whole face almost glistened like the ocean during sunrise, and he grinned but it trembled, as if she might change her mind any instant. She certainly considered it. But the way he sighed and beamed at her, she couldn't disappoint him. Even his hands shook as one clutched the inside of his pocket, while the other held her sliding door open.

“Brilliant!” the Doctor cheered. Bless his hearts, Rose thought to herself. “Oh, brilliant. You'll love it, Rose, I promise.” He burst out of the room not unlike a clap of thunder, her door slamming shut with a thud as a faint giggle slipped through.

It took Rose nearly an hour to sift through all of the clothes they'd bought. All in all it was enough for two pregnancies. She could tell between her picks and the Doctor's, because his ended up flattering her figure more. She couldn't decipher how she felt about that. There wasn't a lack of comfortable clothes in what he picked out. In fact, she now had a new collection of nighties and jim jams. But in no uncertain terms, the Doctor was telling Rose to not hide behind her figure. She hadn't before she got pregnant, there was no reason to start now (though she already had for a few weeks). Was he sending her a message with all of these tops and dresses with low necklines? Surely he didn't intend for her to show off for anyone else.

She got a partial answer from laying out the contents of the lingerie bags. He must have picked up one of everything, and in a couple of sizes to boot. The poor Doctor, Rose thought with a smile. While she slept in the store he must have been frantically clearing the racks of clothes just to get through the task. Did he even look at the lacy pink knickers he'd picked out? At least she had a fair idea as to how he knew her size. Their laundry often got mixed up. She'd never blame him for being curious, and he was always discreet in returning them to her. Should she have been a bit disturbed that his picks fit her better than any bra she'd ever bought? Or was he just insanely lucky? Was he guessing her choices when he picked out several nursing bras, or sending her a subtle hint? She didn't want answers to these questions. It was something to discuss when she wasn't wired with adrenaline.

There was nothing left to distract Rose from her nerves once she'd tried on some of the clothes and put the rest away. She leaned up against the wall and closed her eyes. A few deep breaths and hums later she was just as jittery. Who needed caffeine when there was a Time Lord around to send her pulse racing? Rose hadn't been on a date since she was with Jimmy. As much as she loved Mickey, sitting around in a pub while he watched a match did not make a good date. Whatever the Doctor had planned was a date, for sure, whether he referred to it as such or not. He wouldn't look like a grinning nervous wreck if it wasn't, would he?

He'd ask nothing of her. At least, she hoped. Would that all change today? The TARDIS was not at all subtle in suggesting she wear a simple chiffon pastel pink dress. It was the only thing in the wardrobe for her to put on. Rose was firm in her mission to protect the Doctor's tender hearts. Maybe he didn't realize, but he broke so easily. She wouldn't be around for many lifetimes like he would. She could give him a few extra happy years (she hoped) through her child. But she'd be gone in the blink of an eye in his time. It wasn't fair of Rose to ask anything of him. She was happy with what they had anyway. They cared for one another. It was a simple arrangement free of complications. Free of heartbreak.

They'd nearly lost one another once. Rose spent ever millisecond falling towards the Void looking at the Doctor's face. And she'd never seen him look so distraught, so broken. She also vividly remembered how solemn and angry he used to be when they first met. His actions and his people left a whole in his hearts. As much as Rose felt the Doctor should never be alone, she also never wanted him to be broken. He should always smile, always bring joy and peace to the universe. It was his greatest strength. And Rose already feared robbing him of it. She couldn't make it worse by entangling herself with him romantically. It wasn't fair.

For the first time in a long while, Rose opted for very little makeup. Part of it was laziness. Part of it was her stomach threatening to tear up her insides if she didn't feed it. She let her hair hang loose, fighting the urge to put it up in a ponytail or a bun. She put on a pair of matching pink bra and knickers, not that he'd see. If she had any say in the matter she'd go without. But that was no longer an option for her if she was to be polite. The dress gently sparkled in the light, and was tight enough to reveal her baby bump, unlike anything she'd worn around the Doctor just yet. That had to be the idea, Rose pondered.

“You're cheeky, you know that?” Rose spoke to the humming walls as she looked at herself in front of the mirror while slipping on a pair of pink sandals. “Whose side are you on, anyway?” She stood up straight and her hands fell to the little swell on her belly. “Guess we're both dressing up. What do you think darling, hmm?” She looked down and smiled. The baby had been good to her today. “D'you think Daddy will like this?”

The Doctor dropped a spanner to the floor when she entered the console room a few minutes later. She barely heard him utter something akin to a swear. “Oh, Rose, you look beautiful..”

“For a human?” Rose teased. It was a phrase she'd come to use often when she dressed up. She took comfort in it, hugging her hands behind her back.

“For anything, beautiful,” he repeated, and walked up to her to take her hand. He brought it to his lips for a kiss, and grinned against her knuckles when this was met with a properly ripe blush. He rubbed her hand before he gave it back to her, but the feeling of his cool lips still lingered on the skin there.

She only noticed his attire right then. He wore a loose linen shirt and khakis with leather sandals. A few of his shirt's buttons were undone, revealing just a tease of his wiry chest hair. He wore his TARDIS key proudly on a gold chain around his neck. His shirt was just thin enough to reveal all of the tight muscles beneath. And he'd rolled up his sleeves. The Doctor actually might have looked relaxed if he wasn't flying about the console setting their destination. Damn him, he looked fit.

He'd fitted the jump seat with a pair of seat belts after a couple of close calls with the TARDIS crashing. And as silly as Rose felt, she also appreciated his efforts. Rose knew the TARDIS would never hurt her, but she'd been acting increasingly erratic as weeks went by, sending her pilot into fits of worry when he thought Rose wasn't looking.

“Come on, be good today, won't you? It's all perfectly safe. Nice and easy this time, hmm?” the Doctor pleaded with his ship before pulling down the engine's lever.

When Rose saw just how the emerald green sand looked beneath a crimson sunset, she instantly regretted her little white lie about being knackered. They hadn't taken but two steps away from the TARDIS when Rose decided to chuck her sandals back in. The soft green sand molding to her feet felt divine. Though the weather was damp and balmy, the sand was cool beneath her feet, and the breeze teasing up the skirt of her dress lightly chilled her skin. It was a short walk to the dock the restaurant sat on. But Rose could have gone on for another mile, hand in hand with her date.

He was quiet during the whole affair. It struck Rose as odd. She might have expected the Doctor to chat away while she worked at their dinner. Instead she listened to the sounds of the waves lapping at the docks below, and the wooden wick of the candle on their table hissing and flickering between them. His smile was easily warmer than the candle, especially as he held her hand while they waited for their food. Even Rose felt the loss of his massaging thumb acutely when she tucked into her food, no matter how famished she felt. She ended up ordering pasta while he had steak and the potato-like chips. Well, he had steak, but only because it was safe from her clutches by virtue of not being safe for her to eat. The server brought them a slice of chocolate cake to celebrate the addition to their family.

“Our family,” Rose repeated the words as the server slipped away to leave them to eat in peace.

“Hmm,” was all the Doctor said in response, beaming at her for a moment.

Though the cake was meant for the both of them, the Doctor had long since learned to not come between a hormonal female and her chocolate. Well, she might have told him once or twice not to. One might have thought that after so many centuries of phone box travel that he would have already learned this lesson. He stuck to his quiet, smiling vigil as she devoured the cake. It never stood a chance. When she set her fork down, he took a finger to her lips to wipe off a bit of frosting, which he then licked off his finger. Her heart just might have skipped a bit.

“You've been quiet, Doctor,” Rose spoke up as she shook herself out of the stupor produced by the sight of his tongue sweeping across his lips. “Everything alright?”

“I'm just enjoying myself,” he replied, and wasn't at all shy about taking her hand again. He even gave her a simple, one sentence answer. She was a bit dubious. “We'll have to pop back into the TARDIS eventually. I'm just committing all this to memory.”

“Hasn't felt like that much, really. Mostly you watching me eat. You never even finished your steak.”

“That so? A meal outside the TARDIS free of danger, strange alien foods as you call them, and all the stresses of our busy lives? How many times have we been able to just _sit_ and enjoy a sunset, Rose? How many times have I been able to simply enjoying how ravishing you look against that sunset?” He nodded at the clouds behind them. “The pink in your cheeks matches those clouds over there, the ones that look like a sea turtle. It might not seem like much to you, Rose. But it means a lot to me.” She considered pulling her hand away, but was too engrossed in the return of his thumb's ministrations. “It's why I brought this.”

He produced a flat box wrapped in bright blue paper and let it slip through his jittery fingers. It crashed into the thankfully empty tea cups. In that little moment when he sighed as it landed safely on the table Rose realized that he must have been trying hard to contain his nerves. It really was a silly notion, a Time Lord like himself being intimidated by a lowly human. She'd never share this sentiment with him, of course.

“Is this for me?” Rose asked, running her fingers over the shiny blue paper on the box. She felt like a right git, not getting him anything. But what was the occasion anyway?

“Open it, Rose.”

This is what he'd been shopping for that day, Rose considered as she began picking at the paper. He could have easily been a gift himself, watching his chest quivering in its attempts at containing his wildly beating hearts. It was a sight she'd never been treated to. A bit of his collarbone came into view, and its swell was so subtle compared to the yo-yo jumping up and down in his throat waiting for her to open her gift. She ought to give him a bit of relief, Rose thought with a little smile. Her feet reached out for his under the table, and she curled her toes into the leather straps of his sandals while peeling away the blue paper off her gift box.

The first sight her eyes fell on after she tossed the box lid to the ground was a pair of baby-sized cream colored converse shoes. She didn't bite back the squeal that escaped her lips (or more accurately her heart) when she held the little shoes in her palm.

“Oh, Doctor, they're _cute_!” she praised.

“There's more,” he croaked.

She offered him an equally delighted squeal when she saw the corduroy overalls that the shoes had been sitting on. Rose held them up in the air and giggled. Her child would wear these, would probably grow out of them as quickly as Rose had her regular clothes. The sea breeze waved the overalls in the air like a flag, revealing the grin of a proud father behind them before she sat them back down in their box. He'd also picked up t-shirts in all neutral colors, yellow, green, tan, white, and a deep purple.

“I got more, it's all back on the TARDIS. Just thought, I liked these the best,” the Doctor explained as Rose admired the contents of the box. “And I know it's early on, but I wanted to treat you, Rose.”

“It's adorable, I love it,” she praised again.

There weren't words to properly express the joy that was filling her heart. It was all just what she'd needed. Everything Rose needed was right here before her. The thought made her hand fall to her womb again as she met eyes with her baby's father. He looked, in his own way, beautiful against the sunset too. She enjoyed how the candlelight was lighting up his freckles. But what made her heart melt the most was seeing the little fire reflecting in his deep eyes, and they were looking right at her. They were so still, so patient, and for the first time in a while they looked so warm. They were as calm as the rolling waves behind him, and it was such a rare treat, a gift in and of itself. Rose closed her eyes for a heartbeat to commit the sight to her own memory.

“I've got.. there's two more things.. just for you, Rose,” he blurted out, so quickly that she almost didn't understand. His calm was whisked away on the salty breeze. She remained silent as he frantically fished through his pockets until he produced a blue velvet box in his palm.

The Doctor must have seen the panic paling her face, because he opened the box himself. He revealed a gold locket. She hadn't realized until she laid eyes on it, but she'd been holding her breath. She released it in one big gust. The Doctor picked up the heart-shaped locket and opened it for her. It opened three ways and revealed two photos inside, one of each of them, and a blank space.

“For our family,” the Doctor whispered as Rose ran her thumb over his picture. He was grinning from ear to ear. “Do you like it? Is it alright?”

“Would you help me put it on, Doctor?”

The Doctor leapt out of his chair, sending it crashing to the floor. He was behind her in an instant, with the necklace clutched in the dancing spider legs he called fingers. She lifted up her hair for him, and felt his cool breath on the nape of her neck, making the hairs there stand up. Rose might have expected him to put the necklace around her neck. Instead, she felt his lips on her skin there, sending a warm shiver racing down her spine before it pooled low between her legs. There was no cause for the kiss, nor the little peck that followed it. But the sigh that escaped her lips afterward rewarded his efforts if she had to venture a guess. He did slip the gold chain around her neck, but not before releasing that prideful hum that stirred the gooseflesh on her neck. He spun around her and admired his handiwork before propping his chair back up and sitting back down. She would have too if she was in his shoes, she mused. The locket sat right between her breasts, on top of her heart.

“There's also these,” the Doctor picked up a stack of books from the floor. Two of them were baby books, and one was a pregnancy book. “I might have given you this before the locket, now that I think about it. Ah well. I never see you going into the library any more.. so I picked up these for you.”

She almost asked him how he sneaked these gifts over to the restaurant without her seeing, but there wasn't a point in it. She didn't want to do anything to belittle him, not after he'd been so open and giving. She'd never seen this side to the Doctor before. He'd rarely ever given her a gift, let alone several, especially when it wasn't a silly human holiday that he observed for her sake.

He followed her when she stood up. Rose walked up to the Doctor and wrapped her arms about his neck. He was quick to wrap her up in a hug, pulling her womb to his flat stomach, keeping it warm and safe between them as he craned his head around her neck. She sighed into his shoulder as she nuzzled it, rubbing his cologne off on her cheek. His hearts hammered at his chest so fiercely, making certain she heard their upbeat song.

As he let her back down off her tip toes he brought his forehead to hers and grinned, like he knew a secret she didn't. She could taste savory steak and red wine on his breath, could almost drink it in on her tongue as she licked her chapped lips. Her breath hitched when he tucked some errant locks of hair behind her ear. And his fingers lingered there, tickling the sensitive bit of skin. Rose brushed her nose with his, getting an up close view of his freckles. And his deep red lips looked hungry as he brought them close to hers. She wasn't willing to sate their appetite. But it didn't matter, because they captured hers anyway.

This embrace was so vastly different from their first kiss. His lips were gentle, brushing hers much like the ocean's waves did the sandy shore. It felt like they'd done this so many times before, so safe and oddly familiar. He threaded his fingers through her hair as his other hand snaked around her back just a bit tighter. He may not have touched her womb as she bid, but it didn't matter. His palm to the small of her back was firm and unrelenting. Their surroundings fell away in just that brief moment. The acrid saltiness of the docks, the cawing of the sea gulls, the gentle breeze teasing at her skirt, even the calming ocean waves melted away for a few heartbeats as the Doctor's tongue brushed her lips. He wasn't asking for more, she thought, but rather tasting her, as his lips moved to pecking her cheek, and then her neck. And she let him, even craned her neck to give him better access as he dropped several kisses to the join of her shoulder. She did nothing to discourage him, even began massaging his shoulder. The Doctor made certain his intents were innocent by giving her then hungry lips a few chaste kisses before releasing her.

He didn't even give her but a moment for her to breathe and let her heartbeats slow before he spoke. “D'you want to find out the sex of the baby, Rose?”

Rose came down off of her cloud and blinked a few times before looking at the Doctor properly. “Is it time?”

“Yeah, about. If you'd rather not..”

She felt the loss of his touch acutely, her lips had swelled during their brief embrace. She might have just eaten ice cream, they felt so cool on her tongue. Only it tasted like cabernet, filet mignon, and crisp, ripe Time Lord. Some previously dormant but choice nerve endings became very much awake as she reached out for his hand to make up for the loss of his touch.

“I'd love to,” Rose hummed.

She didn't remember much of the trek back to the TARDIS or her trip to the infirmary. Rose felt like she was floating on a cloud. And she was sober, unlike the Doctor who'd nursed a couple glasses of wine. At one point he probably offered her a chance to change her clothes before they made their way to the infirmary. She must have declined, because when she came off of her little cloud she was lying on the plush infirmary bed with the Doctor wheeling around her setting up the ultrasound machine.

“Alright! Are you ready, Rose?” The Doctor chirped, juggling the white wand between his hands. Well, he'd told her what the technical term was for the device, but she didn't care to remember it, not when so much was going through her head (like how soft his stubble felt on her cheeks). Should she be doing this with a slightly tipsy Time Lord, she began to wonder? He looked to giddy to turn him down. She nodded. “I just need you to ah,” he nodded at her skirt, “lift your skirt a bit there, if you don't mind.”

Rose obliged, and slowly revealed the lacy pink knickers that the Doctor had bought for her. If he felt one way or the other about her wearing them, he gave no indications, because he immediately set about rubbing the ultrasound gel on her stomach. Both of them cast their eyes to the large screen beside the bed as he set the little wand to her womb. The humming whir of the machine flooded her ears as a gray image flickered onto the screen.

They'd indulged themselves in an ultrasound once every couple of weeks since the TARDIS installed the machine. Rose considered going to the infirmary to use it for herself once a day, but the Doctor urged her to not be in such a rush to make the baby grow. The little one operated on her own time, and wouldn't be urged into growing any faster by Rose's anxiousness.

The sight of her own growing baby would never, ever cease to amaze her. The first time brought her to tears. Of course Rose rubbed her womb every day, felt an intimate connection to her child, but _seeing_ the baby was a different story entirely. Her child was real, a growing life when she could see it all before her on the giant screen. Little arms, little legs, a cute little head. The baby looked more like a human now, and less like a tadpole. Some day soon she would get to meet this little creature, give him a name, hold him in her arms. Rose looked at the Doctor, stone faced as he studied the monitor. The man she'd kissed less than an hour ago would cradle her child and rock him to sleep, would teach him to walk and talk.

“It's a girl, Rose,” the Doctor croaked, rousing her from her daydreams by squeezing her hand. “Look, see there? That's a baby girl. Look at her, Rose.”

“A girl?” Rose asked, squeezing his hand back.

He beamed at her, eyes shining and glistening. “Yeah, a girl. She's got her mummy's nose.” She could almost hear his hearts fluttering in his chest. “Oh, she's _beautiful_ ,” he cooed, admiring the sleeping little angel on the screen just as much as she was. “That's my little girl, Rose.”

“Does she look okay, Doctor? Everything well?”

He tore his gaze from the screen to soften his smile at her, and brought her hand to his cheek to nuzzle. “She's perfectly well. Thriving. Look at that wild heart beat, hm, Rose? Just like yours.”

Rose bit back her question of asking if it was really alright that her baby was human. But there was a lot that she didn't know. Every time she considered asking she never thought herself brave enough. She wanted to do what she could for the Doctor, who'd already given her so much even before a child. She'd hoped to offer him a companion that would last his lifetime. The one idea that kept her from asking about it was if he really wanted that that he'd have it already. And she worried about souring their special moment with such a serious discussion.

They watched the baby for a long while, admiring every little twitch of her legs and hands, every little heartbeat. The sight nearly lulled Rose to sleep before the Doctor shut off the machine. He took a towel to her stomach and gently wiped off the gel, a task that he normally left to Rose to do herself. When the towel was gone, all that remained was her belly, and the Doctor looked up at Rose with a sort of heartbreaking longing darkening his eyes. Thus far he'd been subtle in his wanting to touch her womb. Rose hadn't felt selfish about refusing him until that day when he'd been a prince to her. She had little cause to refuse him in the first place. It wasn't his fault that Rose still felt a twinge of awkwardness every time he came near her sex. They'd agreed to conceive their child through intercourse together. The burden didn't just lie on his shoulders. They'd already opened pandora's box a crack. There was little point, Rose pondered, in denying the Doctor this little comfort awarded every other father. He wanted to be close to his child. It just so happened that his child was still in her womb.

“Go ahead then, Doctor,” Rose told him on a shaky breath.

“I don't want to make you uncomfortable, Rose,” the Doctor replied, pulling away a little.

“It's alright. You've been wanting this for a while, I know.”

He didn't need to be told twice. Rose very much wanted to close her eyes, and even brought her arm to her face to cover them. But she couldn't. The Doctor leaned in and held the hem of her skirt back with one hand while the other rested on her womb just above her knickers. It became clear that he wasn't about to waste this opportunity when he gently laid his head on her belly. He closed his eyes while facing her, looking altogether so vulnerable. Her hand moved to rubbing his back of its own accord, without her permission.

“Hello darling,” the Doctor whispered.

And those would be the only English words that the Doctor would whisper to his child. There were times where Rose thought she'd heard him speaking Gallifreyan. They didn't hold a candle to the sweet song that he sang for his daughter. At least Rose thought it was a song. She couldn't be certain how his people naturally spoke. It didn't matter in the end. Her eyes were glued to the Doctor, mesmerized by the sight of him brought to tears, cool drops of joy shed onto her warm belly. The words of his people rippled off of his tongue and into her womb, like little drops of rain onto a pond. It struck Rose as odd that such cold and calculating people could speak such a lyrical language. Or maybe it was just the Doctor's low, gravelly voice lending itself well to his native tongue. He opened his eyes to speak the final words, looking right up at Rose. She couldn't be certain who he was speaking to, which sent chills down her spine, because although she couldn't understand the words their meaning was pretty clear. It was hard to mistake the warmth and sincerity that enveloped words of love in any language. Evidently the Doctor's was no exception.

“Doctor..” Rose whispered, uncertain then what she was about to say as he kissed her belly and pulled her skirt back down.

“Thank you, Rose,” he murmured as he stood up.

“What was that, what you just said?”

He winked at her and repeated the words into her ear, but not in English. He spoke them again in that same lyrical sweetness that he'd offered his baby girl. It sent shivers riveting down her spine.

“Yeah, but what's it mean?”

Again, he winked and clicked his tongue. “You best be off to bed, hmm? I think I'll find something we can both do after you've rested.”

Just when he was beginning to really break down her barriers with all of his tenderness, he had to pull his same old Doctor tricks on her. Rose felt like she awoke from a dream as she slid off the bed. It had been a long day, she sighed. She did need some rest. She could sleep for a week.

And she would, if her bedroom hadn't disappeared.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose and the Doctor decide to have a baby together. After she becomes pregnant with his first womb born child, the Doctor realizes that he wants to raise a baby with more than just his best friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [allegoricalrose](http://allegoricalrose.tumblr.com/)'s baby!fic [prompt](http://allegoricalrose.tumblr.com/post/114087004514/ok-think-about-this-ten-rose-au-where-they-are).

_Again, he winked and clicked his tongue. “You best be off to bed, hmm? I think I'll find something we can both do after you've rested.”_

_Just when he was beginning to really break down her barriers with all of his tenderness, he had to pull his same old Doctor tricks on her. Rose felt like she awoke from a dream as she slid off the bed. It had been a long day, she sighed. She did need some rest. She could sleep for a week._

_And she would, if her bedroom hadn't disappeared._

 

 

“You know, you've never seen fit to interfere in my love life before,” the Doctor insinuated.

He was suspended on a swing in the bowels of the engine beneath the console room. His only connection to the rest of the TARDIS was a portable monitor propped up in his lap. He watched his girls resting in one of the parlors a few corridors down. Well, one of them was resting. The other was probably tenderizing her mum's organs with her growing baby feet. When Rose first told him of this nighttime habit, she cited that although it was exhausting, she felt more at ease when the baby was moving around. If she was moving, then she must have been healthy, certainly alive in the very least. It wasn't entirely unsound logic. It put Rose at ease, which was most important. She'd placed her full trust in the Doctor to monitor their child's health, which was the perfect job for a man that didn't sleep much.

Of course, this job didn't entail the Doctor spying on Rose sleeping. But she was in a public area of the TARDIS. Resisting the temptation to watch them while he worked became an insurmountable task. He shut off the telly she'd been watching from the console room so that he could hear her breathing, her occasional sweet sighs, little snorts, and hums. He shifted the lighting just enough to allow him to see her shirt riding up her swollen belly. At times he forgot he was peering at her through a screen smaller than his face. The complex weave of wires, tubing and switches making up the TARDIS's engine unraveled around him as he admired her.

Alright, so maybe admired was the wrong word. Entranced, perhaps, by the way her hair in her face looked like the long golden tresses of a willow tree at twilight with each warm sigh making them sway like in a breeze. Or captivated, maybe, by how – at 30 weeks – her hand had come to naturally clutch her womb in her sleep, protecting her little passenger from bumps in the night. He was certainly touched by her habit of snuggling up with his old jumpers (the ones he'd worn under his old leather jacket) as she slept. There wasn't a word for the way his hearts made somersaults when she sighed his name a few times in her slumber.

“Oh, don't think I'm not on to you, madam,” the Doctor chided, mumbling with his sonic between his teeth as he struggled to solder two wires together. He hummed a growl at her when a few sparks lit from the ends of the wires. “I know you're hiding distress calls from me. That's a big no-no.” He shook in his swing as the TARDIS chimed back at him. “Why are you fighting me? It's not just affecting her you know, it's getting me, too.”

The TARDIS had taken it upon herself to move Rose's bedroom twice, once at eighteen weeks and again at twenty-five. Granted, she _did_ move it closer to the galley and the console room so that Rose didn't have to exert herself as much. At least this was the conclusion Rose had come to. It might have made sense if walking down a few extra corridors really bothered her (which, considering how stir crazy she was becoming, it most certainly did not).

Rose had been effectively grounded. And when the Doctor could still go places himself he was perfectly okay with this. For a week now he'd been stuck on the TARDIS in the Vortex. The ship refused to budge. Yes, he did feel that she was malfunctioning. It wasn't just Rose's bedroom that she was rearranging. All of his lab equipment had been properly sorted, which of course meant that he could no longer find anything in his lab. The same could be said of the library, and his vast pantry (which Rose had been doing a thorough job of clearing). “She's nesting,” Rose had offered with a giggle. And when she was in a good mood she might have been tempted to just leave it at that.

“You think you can do better than me.” The Doctor challenged as he hoisted himself up onto the console room floor. “Grounding her to keep her safe, moving her bedroom closer to mine, making it look like _you're_ the one who makes her breakfast, fighting me every time I've wanted to go anywhere.. You think you're being subtle, don't you, you crafty girl?” He set his monitor down in favor of the bigger one on the console, and let a finger stroke Rose's sleeping face through the screen. “I broke a promise to her, you know. I told her I'd leave her be, that we'd go back to normal, as if the way we conceived our baby never happened.”

His feet wanted to meander around the console, shifting back and forth. But his palm hugged the screen Rose was displayed on, unwilling to pull away from her. She was beginning to stir, combing her fingers through her wild tresses and sweeping her tongue across her lips. His felt warm, could almost _taste_ her fruity lip gloss as they recalled the memory of greeting hers. No, he hadn't dared to try again after their date. His mind wasn't nearly busy enough to put his desires aside, mind. He thought about bringing her lips to his every week, about wrapping his arm around her back every day, and letting his hand slip under her clothes every hour. He thought about feeling his baby girl's heartbeats on his palm as her mum's traveled from her lips to his each and every passing minute.

“I can do this. Have _some_ confidence in me. I'll talk to her. I will. We're making progress. My time doesn't run out when our baby's born, you know.” He nearly didn't finish this sentence, as the engines spurred to life just enough to knock him off his feet. “Well clearly you're in working order. Just let me take her somewhere. How am I supposed to.. you know.. if I'm stuck in here all day, hm? You know I do my best work on the field. Have some faith in me.”

The TARDIS thrummed into his feet as he stood up and took a gander at the monitor. Rose was waking up and groaning. Their conversation would have to be put on pause for later. He didn't have to be there when she woke up, but he wasn't going to waste an opportunity when it wouldn't be considered intruding. Within minutes he popped into the parlor carrying a little tray of peppermint tea with scones and fruit (perfectly pear-free of course). Her little squeak as she raised her arms above her head in a stretch nearly had him dropping the tray. But he collected himself, set it down, and knelt before her on the floor.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he whispered to her exposed belly after leaving a little peck there. When he peered up at Rose's growing blush he added, “And to you too, little one.” He gave her womb another kiss before relinquishing her personal space. “How are you?”

“She's..” Rose yawned.

The Doctor leaned against the back of the couch and let his head rest on her thigh. “She's fine. I know that already. I want to know how _you_ are, Rose.”

She answered this for him with her wincing and hissing as she hoisted herself up into a sitting position. Rose had a lot more weight to carry now, the gentle swell of her stomach having since grown twice the size it'd been when they'd learned she was growing a baby girl. Her arm shook in its struggle to hold up her weight, and she gasped as she sat up. It wasn't the sort he would've loved to hear.

“My back,” Rose panted in a wince, “it's really killing me.”

“I can see that. This couch might be big, but it's not good for your back, or the baby.”

“Well, if she'd quit moving my room! I'm not doing it any more, Doctor. And I hate being cooped up like this,” Rose grumbled as she wiggled her hips on the cushion struggling to get comfortable. Only then he realized her thigh had moved, and his head fell back onto the cushion. His neck and cheek were missing the warmth of her silky skin already. “I know you're trying to hide it, but you're going a bit barmy too, Doctor.”

“Well..” He ran his hand through his hair and pouted his lip a little. “That's not important right now. I do want to take you somewhere. I miss getting out, but I miss running with you more. Seeing new places. Breathing new air.” He paused to pull in the aroma of strawberries and tea with a breath. “You make it all exciting, Rose. It's not as fun by myself.”

He expected to see a smile spread across her sleep-ripened face. Instead, Rose wrinkled her lips as she broke apart a scone before popping a corner into her mouth.

“Thanks for picking this up for me,” Rose muttered through her chewing. “The TARDIS makes the best scones.”

“Those are mine. I made them. And the tea,” the Doctor claimed. Well, it might have come out as a bit of a confession as he found her gaze. Her eyes were so dark after sleeping, framed in little wrinkles from her exhaustion. “Well. Made the scones last night. I reheated them. But they're still mine, mind you.”

She tucked her tangled hair behind her ear and looked down at him, licking buttery crumbs off her lip. “Have you made the others too? The ones the TARDIS leaves in that panel in my room?”

“There are tunnels between certain rooms and the galley. Yours is one of them. Simple task. Yeah, the TARDIS could manage herself, if she so chose. But it's ah.. it's been me, making your breakfasts.. yeah.”

Her heartbeat quickened, its familiar cadence settling low in his chest. “Every time? Even after our first time trying?” Her hand fell to her stomach to embrace her womb.

“After your first night on the TARDIS, actually,” he muttered just barely above his breath.

“What, you mean.. all these years? You've been making me breakfast, and you've never said? Doctor!”

His jittery fingers sought comfort in messing with the carefully sculpted spikes in his hair. How could he respond to her admonishing tone? She also mocked him for his arrogance, too, he would've loved to remind her.

“I'd really like to take you somewhere, Rose. It'll be safe, maybe help you relax?”

“The last time you said that, you kissed me and I didn't sleep for two nights.” Rose downed the last strawberry and placed her other hand on her belly. They both calmed down a little as Rose's hands made slow and gentle sweeps along her womb. “Only playing, Doctor. Go on then, I'd love to come along.”

They took their time getting to the console room, and not just because Rose needed to pop into the loo, twice. He'd quickly become just a little bit infatuated with how she'd begun waddling about the TARDIS, hips swaying to and fro like a metronome. It was vastly different from all of their running down the halls, playing games of tag and racing.

They stopped by her room to change clothes along the way. He'd urged her to put on something light and comfortable. She opted for a sun dress – one that he'd bought for her. At first he thought she was being nice by wearing everything that he'd picked out. And she never said, but she must have liked his picks better if she was still putting them all on months later. He had no idea if she felt they were more comfortable, but he did know for a fact that they were much, much more flattering to her changing figure.

Of course, Rose at any time was the most beautiful creature in the universe. He'd looked around. He'd flirted. But he'd never made any comparisons, mind.There was no point in it. It wouldn't be fair to the rest of existence to compare them to the bar set by his image of Rose. That had been before she was pregnant. Oh yes, he had always marveled at the magnificence of mammalian birth. It was risky, messy, just plain dangerous. At the end of it they get a tiny little creature that can't fend for itself without its mother's gentle guidance. But to that end, the Doctor came to know a woman whose love for her unborn child rivaled all of the many tomes in his vast library telling of any sort of romance. She could have redefined the words themselves.

Indeed, the Doctor held no doubts in his mind that Rose loved their child fiercely. But she was none too appreciative of the load she had to bear. His breath hitched with her every wince and grumble at her aching back and joints. Rose was insistent on being independent. And she was right, she could do so much on her own. But their child would be arriving in a matter of weeks. Surely she couldn't expect to keep doing everything on her own after that? Seeing her holding her back as she walked made him ache to do something for her, to show her that she wasn't alone.

Hope sprung up in the Doctor's chest as he helped Rose up onto the jump seat. This happened every now and again, and not just while she'd been pregnant. Her gaze meeting his felt like a sip of mulled cider, just like her; warm, spicy, crisp, yet delicate. It was difficult then, as she smiled at him while he helped her into her buckle to swallow the words that had welled up at the back of his throat. Like so many times before, he didn't feel brave enough. He'd told the TARDIS he was going to talk to Rose. The person he really should have made this promise to came between them as he pressed his lips to Rose's cheek and drank in her warm smile. His hand found her belly as his eager lips moved to tasting her jaw and neck. He owed the little girl beneath his palm, kicking and wiggling, nearly ready to greet the universe. Maybe the TARDIS was on to something. His time might not have been running out, but theirs would. And maybe he wanted to bring his little girl into a world where the love her mummy and daddy shared wasn't just a passing gaze every now and again.

“Oh, Doctor.. this is _beautiful_!” Rose gasped as she stepped off of the TARDIS and waddled away from him, as if nothing was stopping her from getting herself lost as she always had.

“Thank you old girl,” he whispered to the TARDIS as he shut the door behind him, stroking along her worn blue wood. She hadn't fought him this time, not more than a moan and groan from her engines. She still strained, and he tried not to worry too much about this as he began to catch up with Rose. He looked back at the ship and whispered, “I'll bring her back in one piece. Promise.”

“What is this place, Doctor?” Rose asked, looking back at him as he caught up with her.

“Shangri-la.”

He shared in her beaming grin. “What, really? It's real?”

“Well, not _your_ Shangri-la, no. But this is a close approximation on a planet similar geologically to Earth several million years before your time.”

The Doctor landed the TARDIS in a little gazebo situated on a large rock in the middle of a pond at the base of a waterfall. He explained to Rose that it used to be a little tea house for the nearby monastery, but both had been long since abandoned. The pond was a gathering place for all manner of wildlife in this ecosystem. But what really captured Rose's eye, he found, were the flying koi fish. They gave the lush greenery a splash of orange as they leapt from the deep blue water to catch bright red and purple birds that liked to flit along the surface of the water. Her little squeal of joy at watching the birds evade their attempts made all of his begging the TARDIS worth it.

Life sprung around every corner of this place, defying nature's attempts at creating balance. Frogs and lizards danced on the carpets of moss that grew on practically every rock. The thick fog of mist that wafted in the air from the waterfall kept all of the trees lush with giant leaves. The foliage was so thick that the sky could almost have been made up of the tree canopy above the gazebo.

“Rose,” the Doctor muttered eventually. He couldn't be certain how much time had passed while they relaxed and admired their surroundings. But it was enough for the Doctor to find his arm around Rose's shoulder as he whispered into her what he knew of the wildlife she was watching in awe. “There's something I wanted to do, if you feel up to it.”

She hummed and looked up at him. The sight of her nearly had him forgetting everything. His eyes fell to her locket, trembling gently on top of her breasts, glistening with mist. She wore that locket every day, always letting it sit on top of whatever clothes she wore. He should have told her from the second time she wore it that this melted his hearts. Her lips curled into a smile as he tucked her damp hair behind her ears and rubbed her dew-freckled cheeks. She turned to look at him properly and he gurgled a chuckle at her wet dress clinging to the swell of her stomach.

“I want to give you a massage, Rose, if that's okay?” he blurted out after seeking just a bit of extra confidence from her hand. “For your back, since it's hurting?”

“Oh, Doctor, that would be divine!” Rose cooed, beaming up at him. She turned around and gasped. “Oh! Did you plan this too, Doctor?”

“Might have.”

He watched her walk around the perimeter of the little gazebo, scanning it properly for the first time. Its center was comprised of a sunken booth lined with plush cushions, with a little tea table in the middle (which he picked up and moved to the side where it wouldn't be in the way). He'd imagined her here, sinking into the cushions with her skin melting under his palms.

“How do you want me?” Rose prompted, rousing him.

He cleared his throat and stilled his dizzy head. “Right! Well, ah, best if you lean up against the edge there, putting your weight on your arms. Should be nice and comfortable. Oh, but, Rose, if you feel up to it.. I'd like the dress off.”

She didn't answer, but did settle in as he told her to. She looked back him and waited until he turned around. Her “okay,” came out as a little chirp. And he should have spent this time getting comfortable himself because now he was paralyzed.

One always hears talk about the front of a pregnant woman, the growing swell of her womb as her body works tirelessly to make new life, is it should be. And if there's mention of any curves, it's the gentle one from a woman's breasts to her belly, or the sudden dip beneath it. It should have been a travesty that there weren't whole reams of prose dedicated to the perfect curve from the nape of an expecting woman's neck down to her bum. The gentle pull of their growing child only accentuated this already beautiful arc, ending in a pair of little dimples next to her widened hips. His hands felt a renewed ache, needing to hug his favorite curves, the little valley between her hips and her womb.

And they did. Oh, he'd meant to ease her in gently, every bit as professional as he should have been. And maybe he could have been if it was anybody but Rose seated before him, nearly naked. After he peeled off his jacket, tie, and oxford, giving himself more freedom of movement, he just couldn't stop himself. He knelt behind her and hugged her womb, tucking his head into her shoulder. He'd meant to honor her, to be every bit the gentleman, even as his hearts swelled for her and did jumping jacks in his thin chest. His mind was a catalog of every embrace they'd ever shared. But this one, with his chest molding to the dewy warm skin on her back, their hands cradling their baby girl, Rose's fingers laced with his, it was in a catalog of its own. She sighed, and he closed his eyes. He gave in to the symphony of four hearts, birds chirping, and rushing water before them.

He wanted to thank her, for not fighting their precious moment of bliss. But he was afraid of ending it by speaking. So he remained silent as his hands began to move to her back where they were needed most. He was reluctant to give up his perch on her shoulder, but reminded himself he'd be remiss if he didn't do what he brought her here for. He'd brought her here to take care of _her_ needs, he told himself.

He did just that, beginning with her shoulders after gently lowering her bra straps. The Doctor smoothed away a few knots that had built up here as he rolled back his own shoulders. Rose slipped her arms out of the bra straps and draped herself along the edge of the couch. She moaned a sigh as his palms worked their way down to her back. She was wearing a bra that he'd picked out for her, a sleek cream colored number that brought out the little bit of glow on her peachy skin. He felt a bit of heat trickling from his chest to his groin just knowing Rose wore something so intimate that he'd picked out for her, _especially_ for her. Though it was in one of the larger sizes, his estimates must have been a little off, because it was digging into her skin.

“Rose, is it okay if we have this off?” he whispered, tugging at the band of the bra.

“Yeah,” she sighed. “Just, don't look, okay Doctor?”

He hummed as he unhooked her bra, his palms immediately seeking to rub away the pink sore marks offending her creamy skin while she wriggled out of the bra. He couldn't discern whether the hot and quivering breath sighed into the plush cushion was for him or for her release from the binding garment, or perhaps both. But when he gently dug the heels of his palms into her back and she released a guttural moan into the misty air, this he knew was for him. He felt a sense of accomplishment welling up just for vanquishing that little bit of tension beneath her skin. He needed more.

The Doctor's hands became greedy, victims of his eagerness to please her. He could easily drown out the rushing waterfall, the sweet little squeaks of the frogs, the splashing fish, the hissing of the gently rolling mist. All he heard was Rose. All he _felt_ was Rose, her comfort and pleasure beneath his fingertips. Her heartbeats slowed with each pass of his hands over her spine. He felt like he was playing a harp, fingers dancing along her skin, making her muscles sing a sweet tune that escaped her lips in sighs and moans. When his hands melted into the small of her back, thumbs hugging the precious little dimples there, Rose purred his name. And it wasn't just his ears that appreciated this attention.

He was careful about bringing his hands to her womb again after massaging her hips. He kissed the mole heralding the nape of her neck while his fingers slid along her slick curves. He'd been mapping her body in a whole new way, memorizing the location of every dip and curve, of every little mole with his crafty hands. Only then did he realize he'd been doing all of this with his eyes closed. When they fluttered open to admire her womb, they spotted hers looking up at him. She'd been watching him.

Her hand fell from her breasts to her belly, covering what little of it she could. “I said no looking, Doctor.”

His eyes were torn. If only he could make them look in two places at once. He caught just a flash of pink before he looked down at her hand, and he promised himself he'd get his chance, later. He had to know what was so important that she was willing to give away some modesty to cover up. The Doctor plucked Rose's hand away, and slid his over the spot before she could act.

“I don't want you looking,” Rose protested.

“At what, Rose?” he whispered, soothing his hand here, greeting the little life beneath the swell.

“My stretch marks.”

He quirked an eyebrow and lifted his hand to reveal an array of soft pink stripes along her belly. “What, these little tiger stripes?” he cooed, pouting his lip at her playfully. “I _love_ them. They're pretty.”

Rose chuffed, and made to bat his hand away, but he turned his gaze sincere and rubbed her belly. He marked his words carefully this time before he spoke them. “I mean it. I think you're beautiful, Rose. You don't know how badly I've wanted to touch all of these _gorgeous_ curves of yours.. how much I want to..” he shuddered and purred.

“What? Want to what?” Rose prompted, her heavy-lidded eyes scanning him.

She had to know what he meant, right? He paused, smoothing his fingers over her belly while he was allowed. Thankfully she couldn't hear his hearts, skipping beats and rattling their cage. Oh, it could be such a broad question. It might have been better to ask him what he didn't want. He didn't want to let her go, didn't want this time to end, didn't want her to reject him when he finally did become a braver man. Her golden eyes boring into him and her fierce heart pounding into his ears didn't make it any easier to crawl out from under his slight cowardice. Still, he sought comfort in her, laying down next to her in a spoon, enveloping what he could of her womb in his arm.

“There's so much,” the Doctor muttered into her neck, and drank in a little shiver. “This, for one.”

“Just tell me what you were going to..” she began, but sucked in a quick breath when he captured a bit of skin on her neck between his lips.

Rose's pulse point tasted of rain and sweetness, mild and just a little ripe. He knew he should have asked if it was okay to kiss her neck, to gently dip his tongue onto the little valley above her collarbone, to graze her flesh with his teeth. For so many months the Doctor's resolve had felt so strong, even if he did take her out on a date. Her heartbeat rippling onto his lips could have easily been the bottom brick, and it began to crumble with her purr of his name.

“It's so strong, Rose, your one heart,” he told her as he pressed his nose to her neck.

“You can hear them, can't you? Our heartbeats?”

“Always.”

She brought his hand further across her belly to hug her tight. “Must be nice. I wish I could hear her little heartbeat without all of that noise from the ultrasound.”

“You could.”

The Doctor sat up, giving her hand a parting kiss. Even as the sky opened up to a torrential downpour, flooding his ears with the gentle pitter patter of drops on the gazebo roof, all he could hear were their hearts singing together.

“You're talking about telepathy, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he answered, breathless while he helped her up as she scrambled, a bit like an overturned turtle. “Interested?” Their baby's heartbeats sped up, and he wondered if maybe she was excited by the prospect as well.

“Would it be alright?” she asked, flashing doe eyes at him.

Alright? Would it be alright for him to then admit to how many dreams he'd had about it? His fingers were still tingling from being allowed to connect with her body, to forge a bond between her warmth and his cool that he was finding himself unwilling to give up. Cool mist wafted into their little gazebo, but it was his hand sweeping up her thigh that gave her goosebumps. Her face was so close, he could almost taste the strawberries on her breath. Oh, if anyone could be the one to see deeper inside of him than anybody else, it had to be Rose. It didn't matter that she just wanted to hear their baby's heartbeats. He could say so much more with a thought than he ever could hope to by fumbling over words.

The Doctor closed his eyes and gulped down a few deep breaths while shaking some dampness out of his hair. It then looked a lot tamer than the rest of him felt. His hands rattled as they brought hers to his face.

“Will this work if I'm not a telepath like you?” she asked.

“Yeah, especially if I make the connection too.. if that's alright, Rose? You don't have to.”

“Come on then,” she beamed up at him.

The Doctor scooted a bit closer to Rose and pressed his forehead to hers. He closed his eyes and gurgled a bit of a moan. There was no way for Rose to know what she was doing as she rubbed his temple with her soft, supple fingertips. He took a moment to gather himself, because Rose couldn't be inside his mind when she was stimulating it so thoroughly just with her gentle touch. He shuddered to think what she could do if she was a proper telepath.

“You're sure?” he prompted, bringing two trembling hands up to her cheeks.

“I trust you, Doctor. And I know the routine. Closing doors to thoughts I don't want you seeing,” she parroted from their adventures.

His fingers crept up to her temples and he sighed. “This isn't routine, Rose. Not with you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I'll show you.”

Their chatter gave way to the whooshing rain around them as the Doctor worked to establish a connection. He let the thought of it being too easy wash away with the rain. And then it became a game of chicken. Who would move first? How brave was Rose? Would she dare step into the deep recesses of his dark and dusty old mind? She would! And he'd be every bit the giddy little school boy, failing in every attempt at containing himself. She wouldn't make him wait to learn what she thought of this. Along with her giggle, warmth bubbled into his consciousness, and he hungrily drank it in. He brought her in closer, nuzzling her nose. He felt her shiver, her desire for more points of contact. So he brought his knee in between her thighs, scooting that much closer, so that her womb was pressed to his bare stomach. And he wouldn't have it any other way.

“God, Doctor, you look at my tummy that much?” Rose whispered, peering into his thoughts.

“That's my baby, Rose. Of course I do.”

Her guilt felt like a dull ache welling up in his mind, and he hissed a little. She was thinking about how much he'd had to keep his distance. “I haven't.. I didn't mean to.. it wasn't my intention to keep her from you. It's my fault, I know you've missed her.”

He hushed her, and massaged her temples before he replied with, “I'd miss her either way, Rose. I never feel close enough. That's not entirely your fault,” he confessed.

He grinned a little at the stinging he felt when she happened upon a passing thought. “And a moment like this seems perfect for thinking about my bum?” she chided, squirming a little. He resisted the urge to open his eyes and look down, remembering that she was essentially naked before him. “No!” Rose gasped.

The Doctor took this chance to share with her how he saw her, how beautiful he thought she was. It didn't matter that he put Rose up on a pedestal, as she'd wanted to step into his mind. All of Rose, not just her radiance, made his mind a much warmer place, a safer place. He could live with himself with her smile to melt away his regrets. In his mind he was allowed to think that she was simply gorgeous to look at. It wasn't shallow, cliché, or forbidden to consider her perfect here. In fact, he basked in it, as well as the intense blush that this thought was met with.

“You can't see me that way,” Rose whispered in protest.

“I can, I do. If you don't like it, tough.”

Rose released a shaky breath onto his lips as he tried to clear his thoughts to offer her what she'd asked for in the first place. The Doctor wanted to explain to her that though it was possible to separate the sounds of the two heartbeats he cherished most, he just couldn't bring himself to. It wasn't just the life they brought, but simply _hearing them._ It meant that he was with them. Each beat coincided with a single moment that he shared with them. To him, he thought, those heartbeats were the two most important sounds in the universe. Rose needed to hear them together, the way that he heard them. Their beats made up the cadence to a song that was already ingrained into his mind. Together they reminded him of flapping wings, two little golden birds circling each other in flight. Rose shared an unbreakable bond with his child. And one might think he'd be jealous. But he admired it, he loved it.

When the Doctor was roused from his daydream he was lying with Rose on the cushions, and her hands clasped his back, pulling him in. But she couldn't get a good grip on his slick skin, so her nails raked across his back as Rose eased them into their third or fourth kiss. He couldn't be certain which, much to his delight. She'd severed their connection so gently that he'd slipped into something of a bliss-induced stupor. He rekindled that bond with her skin and his baby with gentle caresses of her womb. She smiled against his lips before he kissed a single tear off her cheek.

“You think in Gallifreyan,” she giggled.

“That's what you've got to say, Rose Tyler?” he teased.

“I love it,” she reassured him, and let her fingers crawl up his back to scratch at his hairline.

“I was wondering then, what earned me those kisses, and how I could get some more?” He played, and nuzzled her nose now that he knew she liked it. His hands were so tempted to move, to explore uncharted territory. But he stilled them on her womb. And he was glad for it, because her answer was sincere.

“That song you sang for her, you were singing it in your head, Doctor, along with our heartbeats. It's beautiful. Would you sing it for us again?”

If only she knew that he did sing their song, each and every day, any time he thought of them (which, being honest, was all of the time). She just didn't hear it aloud except for the one time. The Doctor had given up so much of himself to let her hear that song, the ballad he'd been singing for her long before they conceived their child. Maybe he'd kept it buried deep for far too long. He recalled the warmth that Rose's consciousness shared with him, the blanket of tenderness and devotion that he was already wanting to snuggle up to again.

As he slipped into her embracing gaze, peered into her soft amber eyes, it had been at least a few centuries since he felt so terrified of completely giving himself away to someone. Of course, Rose Tyler wasn't just a someone. He still felt her presence deep in his mind, her warmth nestled in between his memories of the Time War and when they'd first met. He brought one of her hands to his face, letting her palm cup his cheek. He missed her already, had never ached so much for that link as he was now with her. That was what told him he couldn't turn back, that it was time to sing that song for her in her language.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose and the Doctor decide to have a baby together. After she becomes pregnant with his first womb born child, the Doctor realizes that he wants to raise a baby with more than just his best friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [allegoricalrose](http://allegoricalrose.tumblr.com/)'s baby!fic [prompt](http://allegoricalrose.tumblr.com/post/114087004514/ok-think-about-this-ten-rose-au-where-they-are).
> 
> Thank you [allegoricalrose](http://allegoricalrose.tumblr.com/) for naming the baby. And a thank you to [eighthprincessofheart](http://eighthprincessofheart.tumblr.com/) for answering my coin toss way back around chapter one. Your choice factors in at the very end of this chapter.
> 
> This chapter is **NSFW**.

_“That song you sang for her, you were singing it in your head, Doctor, along with our heartbeats. It's beautiful. Would you sing it for us again?”_

 

 

“I was hoping you might tell me what it all means, Doctor,” Rose sighed into the Doctor's bare shoulder. Her urge to taste the freckles on this little patch of skin was growing stronger than her need to keep her distance. (Being honest, she'd already let that slip anyway). His open gasp against her neck in response to her giving in was enough for a shiver to rocket down to her core.

“I plan to. It doesn't.. it doesn't translate well. But I will, Rose,” the Doctor pulled back and told her. His eyes widened and fixed on hers, completely still with sincerity that gave her just a bit of a chill.

He never said he had anything planned. He never planned anything. It wasn't his style. Fly to some far off destination in the TARDIS by the seat of his pants, that was the Doctor's way. Then again, he hadn't really been her conventional Doctor for months. Was the potential of being a daddy really changing him? Rose Tyler, you know better than that, she told herself. She'd _seen_ better than that, in his mind.

All Rose had wanted was to hear her baby girl's heartbeat. But she got so much more than she could have ever thought up late at night in her private TARDIS bedroom. The Doctor's mind felt like a bonfire, entrancing to look at but would burn you if you got too close. Except, the deeper she delved, it didn't get darker or scarier, just busier. It was as though there was a gate in his mind separating her from the parts of him that he didn't want her to see, the parts of him that he worried would scare her away. There were thoughts of her beyond that mind gate, unbidden images of her that she caught a brief glimpse of before he threw up the block.At least they seemed innocent enough compared to the thoughts of hers that she didn't share with him.

When the Doctor held her, she could feel his presence trickling in from his featherlight touch to her clammy skin. She didn't need to be a telepath to work it out. There was no mistaking that hum of excitement riveting through her spine, the buzzing energy that could never be contained. His consciousness seemed to ebb and flow with hers. She felt their bond strengthening with every touch, like the ebb and flow of a tide. His song lapped at her sands until she became engulfed in all of his thoughts, high tide. Rose felt the Doctor melting with her in such a way that could never be accomplished with words or lovemaking.

Surely he didn't bond with everybody that he connected with telepathically. But much to her frustration, he never explained it. He surely must have detected hollow she felt at the loss of his touch as they returned to the TARDIS later. Even if he did, he was more focused on getting the TARDIS to fly, nails digging into her coral panel as he argued with her (and then turned to begging her). His focus had returned along with his clothes and his specs to his nose as he growled at the console controls while the TARDIS returned with a nauseated moan. At least his neglecting to explain to her all that she was feeling and arguing with his time ship had her thinking he was at least still himself.

Except that he was more. Or at least he showed her more. All of the lines of defense that she'd built up between them since Canary Wharf were becoming chalk drawings in the rain. Her resolve to stop it all began to wash away with each of his lingering kisses tingling her lips, with each gentle caress of his hands on her womb, every little whisper of each heart-melting line of his daughter's song into her ear. The Doctor was becoming a vastly different man than the one she'd fallen in love with (there, she'd admitted it). At least this was her first thought. Was he really changing, or did Rose just _know more_? She liked to think he went from showing her the universe and running from danger to singing to her and making her breakfast. Of course, she found out that he'd always made her breakfast. She considered the possibility that there was so much more about him that she didn't know about yet.

If this notion scared her, she probably wouldn't have invited him into her bed for the first time that night since they left Krop Tor behind them. Like that night, she'd meant to have a good cuddle with him, but she fell asleep not long after her weary bones sank into her mattress, on top of all the covers no less. Her sleep wasn't so deep that she didn't feel his cheek on her belly, or the cool kisses he dropped there.

The Doctor was whispering to his daughter when Rose awoke several hours later. Rose told herself that she wasn't betraying her promise to protect him when each night for several weeks thereafter it was his baby girl beneath her belly that he always cuddled up to. She couldn't feel guilty when it was the most she would see of him, as he'd turned to disappearing during the day. She _refused_ , especially when it became clear that her womb separating the Doctor from his child had no bearing on the bond that they began to share. Her baby's sudden calm demeanor at nighttime when he was closest to her wasn't at all lost on Rose. It begged the question: how strong would her resolve be when she saw him cradling his baby, kissing her soft baby down, offering her that charming grin of his as his fingers danced across the folds of her little belly? How willing was she to fight an impossible battle for the rest of her life, knowing how short it would be, when she'd see him showing so much love and devotion to his child that she herself craved?

Rose didn't put too much thought into what to do about it. She had few options, all of which would end in heartbreak, if she was so confident in how the Doctor felt about her. He wasn't just the man she loved any more, not just an all-important Time Lord. He was the father of her child. A promise that Rose intended to keep tied her to the Doctor forever. And now they'd woven a life, binding them in such a way that Rose had never anticipated when she'd made that promise. There was an exuberant little girl between them now.

And it was her tap dancing on Rose's organs that woke her up in the middle of her 36th week. Rose rocked herself up onto her feet, and narrowed her eyes at her belly. It wasn't enough that she was made to feel like a beached whale carrying a watermelon between her legs. Though she had nothing to draw on, she was convinced that having the Doctor as her father made her child that much more excitable, particularly in the early morning when sleep was dearest to Rose. She told herself not to expect the Doctor to sleep with her every night (not that the night owl ever did any real sleeping). But given his bouts of panic following every round of Braxton Hicks contractions, she might have thought he would _want_ to. The twinge of vexation she felt at waking up alone had absolutely _nothing_ to do with being deprived of her goodnight kiss and her baby's lullaby that he normally sang to them.

After finding that no breakfast was waiting for her this morning, Rose told herself that fussing and moaning about it wouldn't make her doting Time Lord appear, and she waddled into her bathroom for a shower. Well, it was _supposed_ to be her bathroom that she shuffled into with her eyes squinted into a deep yawn. Her first cue that it wasn't was the carpeted floor cushioning her aching feet. Last she checked, her bathroom didn't have any carpets. At least it wasn't supposed to.

It wasn't just any carpet, either. Rose looked down past her belly and saw the bristles of the carpet wavering like blades of grass in the wind, and they glistened just like an unspoiled field in the early morning. She tapped her foot on the floor, but the grass fronds felt like any other carpet. She blinked and scanned the room properly. She may as well have walked into a jungle inside the TARDIS. A single tree, looking to be as old as the Doctor himself, sprouted up from the floor and reached out across the walls and ceiling of this room. It formed a leafy canopy that was also subject to the mysterious breeze effects the grassy carpet was. The trunk of the tree was easily six feet wide, and a series of book shelves were cut into its base. A living mural played on the wall across from the tree, and it gave Rose her first cue as to what this room was for. A scene from an African savanna came to life before her eyes, complete with a soundtrack of flamingos, yawning lions, and baying zebras.

He'd made her crib by hand, out of the same wood as the living tree it sat beneath. Rose couldn't be certain how she knew this. The wooden rails she swept her fingers over just felt loved, same as the quilt that was folded over the side. Sure, the TARDIS could fabricate something like this. Rose was even certain that a sewing machine existed somewhere on the ship. But it hadn't been used for this. Though each green and brown stitch was carefully measured, there were a few that were just slightly off. Still, she might have liked it better this way. The Doctor had put a lot of work into the baby's Lion King quilt. Countless hours, to be sure. The entire room felt his careful planning and devotion, from the grand tree to down to the exotic purple flower lamps hanging from its branches. The Doctor had thought of everything.

Except maybe getting rest. The napping Time Lord slumped over in a wooden rocking chair lined with thick green and purple cushions was the last thing she spotted in the room. His jacket was draped over the side of the chair, and he had a blueprint of the baby's crib spread across his lap. His scribbled notes all over the page, as well as the ones on the plans that dotted the floor around his feet gave further evidence that everything was done by his own hand. It all looked too organic, too alive, too well loved to be done by a machine, even the TARDIS.

“I'm sure you helped, yeah?” Rose cooed as she rested her hand on an orange coral wall. Half of the room was painted to look like a sunset. Her hands and eyes fell to her belly. “Daddy made all this for you,” she hummed to her baby, and pursed her lips. “Doctor..” She then spotted another door on the other side of the room. “Reckon there's more, sweetheart?” She rubbed her belly and shuffled over to the door.

More would turn out to be a huge understatement. The connecting room looked more like a penthouse than a bedroom. “You've been holding out on me,” she told the TARDIS. The floor was a dark and uneven wood, scratched and slightly bent from likely years of pacing along its lengths. The walls weren't dissimilar to the library's with coral struts like trees jutting out from them, connecting at the ceiling to form carvings in Gallifreyan. If his planet had churches, these reliefs would be what their ceilings looked like, she was convinced. Only instead of the sun or moon peeking in through stained glass, the purple and blue clouds with stars from the Time Vortex lit large roundel windows.

All of the doors in this room were open. Up a set of stairs lined with a blue velvet carpet, there was a parlor and something appearing to be a laboratory. There were four doors on the base floor, one to the main corridor outside, one to his sizable bathroom, one to the nursery, and a set of double doors to a bedroom next to it. The parlor was home to the grandest fireplace Rose had seen aboard the TARDIS. She wasn't brave enough to venture into the bedroom, but saw enough of it to notice the four poster bed dominating the space.

“You don't have to come in here.. if you don't want to..” a gravelly voice behind her muttered. Rose turned around to spot the Doctor tamping down his sleep-styled mess of hair. “Just wanted to be close to you and the baby. I can fix it back if you'd rather have more privacy.”

Her heart felt heavy in her chest as warmth rose to her cheeks. “ _You_ moved it this time?”

“I just put a door there. It's been next to my room since the last time the TARDIS moved it. Think she was threatening to merge our rooms if I didn't do it myself.”

“I thought you didn't -”

He tumbled over to her and took her hands in his. Rose felt his nerves seeping into her palms before it raced shivers and goosebumps up her arms and shoulders. “Rose, there's something I need to talk with.. I need to tell you..”

“Can you hang on a second then? I've got to, ah..” she grinned at him and squeezed her thighs together after freeing her hands from his sweaty palms. Always with the poor timing. Her bladder had a sense of humor.

She rushed over to her room, not wanting to trek up the stairs. On her way back, a pacing Doctor met her in the nursery, worry wrinkling his face. She didn't need to have his advanced hearing to know that his hearts were hammering at his chest. She couldn't recall the last time she saw so many wrinkles on his face, almost making him look every bit his age for once. She frowned. As the Doctor guided her over to the rocking chair that he'd made, Rose felt the sincerity of the conversation he wanted to have squeezing her hand for dear life. Suddenly all of the time the Doctor spent hidden in the bowels of the TARDIS made sense as she felt the warmth of her baby's nursery wash over her again. He was working on this, she thought as he helped her sit down.

“You made the chair too?” Rose probed as she wiggled her hips into its cushions, testing out its comfort. It was easy to gather how its maker had fallen asleep in it. She was already wanting to take a quick kip in it herself, sinking into its impossibly deep cushions.

“Yeah,” the Doctor croaked as he knelt down before her. His hands trembled as they clutched hers in her lap. He seemed to lose a bit of confidence while she used the loo.

“The nursery is beautiful, Doctor. When you said Lion King, I thought.. well, never imagined this. I love it,” she soothed, trying to rub away some of his nerves through her thumbs on his hands.

Rose wanted her confident, cocky Doctor to deliver this address, she thought. He was easier to argue with than the trembling puppy she wanted to scoop up into her lap. She gazed into his eyes and was reminded of their time in the library together. They were dark pools of nerves, sorrow, rage, and love all mixed in. They were honest, she realized. Nothing hidden. Though his body shook like branches in a storm, his eyes were still. She felt as though she could dip into his hearts right through his eyes. Even before he spoke she was scrambling for words, but nothing came.

“Hear me out, Rose, okay?” the Doctor appealed. She nodded. “I promised you I'd tell you the meaning behind that song, eh?” Again, Rose nodded as her hands brought his to her belly. “It's not about her. Not when I first thought it up. It just reminds me of her. It's about _you_ , Rose.”

The Doctor fished his sonic screwdriver out of his pocket and pointed it to the ceiling of the nursery. The deep orange sky of the painted ceiling became covered in a thick indigo mist that then lit up with stars.

“What part of the universe is this?” Rose asked, knowing better than to assume the Doctor would put up just a random speckling of stars.

“Kasterborous.”

A pit of dread sank into Rose's chest. She knew it came to her from him when she saw it in his eyes. She opened her mouth to speak but he shook his head. She tried to share a flurry of thoughts with him, reaching out to him through their hands, but got no response. Their bond might not work both ways, she thought. He couldn't think she was so important. Maybe she was looking too much into this. It could just be a comfort for him.

“You _are_ that important,” he whispered.

“It _does_ work!”

“Yeah, tell you later. I need you to hear this before I go spare, Rose.”

“Yeah, of course,” she bleated.

And then the Doctor began to sing. His voice tip-toed on sighs and gulps. All she needed was to hear one line of him singing in her tongue for her to want to relieve him of the burden on his nerves. He captured her eyes that wanted to close, her ears that wanted to drift away, and her attention that would be in a million places at once. She couldn't even enjoy the adam's apple bobbing in his throat that made her own feel tight like she was trying to swallow a walnut. Everything around them faded away, those chalk drawings in the rain. Except his eyes and his words remained, etched into her mind's eye for this little moment.

 

“ _I was alone,_

_When I met you,_

_My light had faded,_

_It was the choice I made,_

_The burden I held,_

_The destruction I caused,_

_I did it all on my own_

 

_Everything was dark,_

_When I met you,_

_Everything stood still,_

_Except your world and your smile,_

_You were alive!_

_Your world still spun,_

_You didn't know it yet,_

_But on this little world,_

_You'd make your mark_

 

_I told you to forget,_

_When I met you,_

_Because I was falling,_

_Because I make everything fall with me,_

_But you held on,_

_You held me up,_

_We could run – together!_

_As long as I've got you,_

_My life doesn't have to be filled with regret_

 

_My light had faded,_

_When I met you,_

_I met your smile,_

_Your one heart,_

_That can light up a whole sky,_

_Oh and you'd say,_

_It can't replace what I lost,_

_But it can, Rose!_

_With your brilliant light,_

_It was a new life that you created ”_

 

“You're not talking about the baby,” Rose sputtered with quivering lips. “That last bit.”

He smiled. “I'm talking about me, yeah,” he replied after gurgling a throaty laugh. “Works for her too, though, doesn't it?”

Rose closed her eyes and sighed. There was no hiding from him how she felt, he'd be able to sense it. He'd know that she was trying to calm the butterfly fluttering in her chest. (He'd know that she'd need to get up again shortly). He'd know that she was at a loss for anything to say. What could she say? He sung this song to her baby every night for the past few weeks. And maybe they hadn't understood it until then, but it had given them so much peace. Even still, he'd know that she was still thinking she couldn't possibly be that important.

“You are though, Rose. I doesn't translate well, as I said. You've changed me, made me who I am.” His chin rose from its perch on her lap. “Literally! This face, even. Everything I am, Rose, it's because of you.” She opened her mouth, but he pressed his finger to his lips before speaking again. “Just listen, please. Let me finish. You've taught me, Rose. More important than any of that,” he flung his hand, forgetting that it was attached to hers, “you taught me. I'd abandoned it until we met. It hurt too much.” He swallowed hard and she frowned, squeezing his hand tight. “You taught me to love. That it's okay to love, that it's _good_ to love, even in a short life. And now I can't even remember when it happened. Like the brightest start in that sky, you're forever.”

Rose squirmed in the chair and chewed her bottom lip. She shook her head at the Doctor. But his face, his consciousness burning into her skin, his hearts pounding in his chest before her, they were all too determined to be stilled. It was her own distress that she was feeling, not his. He was beaming up at her, eyes glistening. He looked like a bird learning to fly, dancing on the precipice of anticipation before his words would give him flight.

“I'm going to teach her too, Rose,” the Doctor crooned, and freed a hand from hers to place on her belly. His little girl kicked at his hand, wiggling in her womb from excitement at his greeting. “Yeah, aren't you proud of Daddy, hmm? Just like I promised you, I'm telling her.” He returned his steamy gaze to Rose after pressing a kiss to her stomach. “I'll make sure she knows this feeling too, Rose. Like you've loved someone for as long as you can remember. And no matter what happens, every day I'll make certain that my little princess knows just how much her daddy loves her mummy.”

“Doctor..” Rose blubbered. “How can I answer to that?”

“The truth helps.”

“It's easy for you! I thought we could do all this.. the baby.. without complicating things.”

He rubbed her belly and leaned in to give it another kiss. “Don't use her as an excuse. We made her together Rose. I know you don't like to think about it, but that's the truth. It was _our_ choice. She's not just your baby, not just my baby, she's _our_ daughter. That will _never_ change. That's forever. There are so few things in this universe that are constant. And that's one of them.” He snaked his hand beneath her night shirt and claimed her belly with his tight grasp. “This is _our_ precious little girl, Rose. Together. Our family.”

Rose curled her toes into the grassy carpet. Her heart was creeping up into her throat, and she felt dizzier with his every word. When she closed her eyes all she saw was them, together, buried beneath the weight of their love, in his bed and a series of twisted up sheets and blankets. It provided her with little calm, even less when she remembered how his song whispered into her ear made her shiver, and his lips to her skin had it sizzling. Worse yet was knowing that if she forgot to close doors on these thoughts, he could feel them.

“It's okay. Close me off if you need to,” the Doctor whispered, soothing his thumb across the back of her hand.

“I don't want to, that's just it.” She closed her eyes again, sucking in a deep breath. “I wanted to protect you.”

“From what, your sweetness?” He grinned. “I know, you're serious. I've been alone before, Rose. For so long. Lifetimes, even. But you know what's worse than a lifetime alone. I know you do. I've just told you.” He paused and kissed the back of her hand. Rose had chewed her lip so much it bled. All to avoid the inevitable which began to streak down her face in a flood of emotions she couldn't make heads or tails of. “It's okay, Rose. Don't cry. I won't beg you. I won't. I just think that's not what's really eating away at you right now, is it? It's okay, you can tell me.”

“I'm allowed to be scared!” Rose blurted out.

He remained calm. “Yes, you are.”

“If we fuck up, Doctor, what happens to her? Our baby? She needs us both.”

“She'll have us both, won't she? Anywhere else it's always you that's the brave one, so sure that we're never going to fail. Is it my turn, hm? I'll do whatever it takes to prove to you we won't fail.” The Doctor's voice raised a little, smile plastered to his face.

He shared a thought with her, of the day he sent her home from the game station. He hadn't felt like such a coward since the Time War. He'd been a bloody coward. She was the courage that he needed that day. Though Rose could work out the message from this herself, he still shared with her how he intended to return the favor.

“What really changes, Rose, hm? What more would we have than we already do?” He squeezed her hand so tight he might have been juicing an orange. “Do you know what this is? This little connection that you've been wondering about? It's our bond, Rose. That's it. Really. The telepathy just added one more connector.” He sighed and grinned wide, face relaxing as he beamed up at her. “We're built on the strongest of foundations. We've survived a lot worse than my desire to be a family with you. To _make_ a family with you. Hell, Rose, we've already started that. What more do we have left? I'm so rubbish with words, but I can show you how much I love you. That's all that's left, isn't it?” His voice softened. “That, and maybe proving I'm not always so horrible at shagging?” A giggle burst out through her tears and his smile lapped it up greedily. “There's a smile,” he hummed.

She sighed as her happy wrinkles faded. “What happens when I get old? When _she_ gets old? You said it yourself Doctor, outside that chippy after I met Sarah Jane, remember?”

“I was wrong. So wrong. You've lived more in a couple of decades than I have in some centuries, Rose.”

She persisted, against her gut screaming at her to fall into his open arms. She had to, because he'd wanted to know. He deserved to know. “I'm so bad at relationships.”

He stood up and tugged at her hands, pulling her up to stand with him. “Except ours.” He pulled her into his arms after melting away her tears under his thumbs and dropping a kiss to her hair. “You've always been so good at ours. You're my best friend, that'll never change. But you're also the mother of my children, owner of my hearts.” He nudged at the side of her face and whispered, “Look at those stars, Rose. Love can't be time locked. It never dies, not ours.”

“Ours,” Rose echoed, thinking of the little life that was nestled between them.

“Yes,” he hissed. “We're already sharing so much. Our baby's love, for starters. You're already my mate.”

The word rocked her to her very core, and was so reminiscent of their tryst in the library. It was a word long since forgotten in her culture. But it was all too appropriate. And now he knew she felt that way. Her chest rose and fell like a bellows, his words were air giving life to the fire she felt inside.

“Come on Rose,” he growled into her ear, and there was no hiding the warm tremors that traveled from her neck to her abdomen. “Shouldn't we share ours too? I want to show her what you taught me.” His hand fell to a spot on her belly where her shirt was riding up. Rose sighed on a hitched breath, welcoming his cool touch. “I want to show her what true love is, what you're feeling right now but won't put to words.”

Rose could feel him wanting her to throw more of her doubts his way so that he could dispel all of them, until there was nothing left. She looked into his eyes and swam in the same dark pools of reassuring confidence that he'd always had. His hand soothing away her worries on her belly reminded her that soon their baby would gaze into those eyes and know that same reassurance. Maybe, she considered, she should take advantage of having that to herself while she could, before he fell in love with another girl.

All the remained was the question of who this man was and what he'd done with the Doctor. He looked like her Doctor. He had the hedgehog hair with sideburns and freckles. His skin was cool as it ought to be, his tall frame as slender and foxy as always. What had changed was on the inside. Did Time Lords regenerate on the inside? Doubtful, she thought. It sounded painful. She believed that he'd felt for her for a long time, because she'd felt the same way. Rose thought, however, that the Doctor would let a bunch of daleks get a hold of his TARDIS before he'd ever share as much with her as he had in the past year.

And yet, long before he held her hair and sat next to her in the loo while she learned that chips couldn't be on her baby diet, the Doctor was curing her hypervodka hangovers after particularly jarring adventures. Long before he held her in the department store as she cried, he supported her when she felt the loss of her mum for the first time. Long before he let her steal his shirts to sleep in because they were comfier than the maternity clothes he bought her, he was dropping subtle little compliments about her period costumes. Long before he was cooing and singing at her growing womb he was clasping her hand as they ran together, grinning the whole way. Long before he was making her biscuits and brownies in the wee hours of the night, he was secretly making her breakfast every morning. The Doctor had loved her for years in his own way. All along the man she thought was a bit cool and slightly unfeeling was sharing more of his hearts with her than she'd ever dared to with him.

“I love you Rose Tyler,” the Doctor murmured amidst her ruminations. He turned Rose to her side so he could hug her closer.

Now was typically the time she'd return those words to him, right? She craned her neck, her hair falling off her shoulders in a curtain as she peered up at his face. Even as he shared just that bit of stale morning breath with her, breathing it onto her ripe cheeks, she still craved the comfort of one of his ice cream kisses. Rose must have been torturing him with her inability to speak an answer. She hiccuped and sighed as she drank in the anticipation from his ticking eyes. She wanted to earn that kiss, she decided. It would taste much sweeter on her lips as a reward.

There was no helping how the words tumbled out of her mouth in a gurgled squeak. “I love you too, Doctor. I love you both, so much.”

Rose's heart was beating into every breath before the Doctor stole it all with his lips pressed to hers. He licked clean years of tension with his tongue sweeping across her lips, wasting no time at all. His hand moved to support her back as her eyes fluttered shut. He opened up to her and she spilled inside clumsily, tasting hours-old coffee on his teeth. He grinned and giggled against her lips all the same as his slick tongue found hers. She groaned into his mouth while his fingers found a sweet spot on the small of her back and began kneading it. His nose dug into her cheek and his tongue slid across hers, making a map of her mouth. And as Rose's knees started to buckle a little, she found that it wasn't just heat pooling between her thighs.

“Not in our baby's nursery, maybe, Doctor?” Rose squeaked as the Doctor's lips began to make a trail down her face to her neck.

He sighed as he opened his eyes and chuffed. “Perhaps not.” He shifted quickly. “Our baby. Could you maybe say that again, Rose?”

“Think it might be time to talk about names?” She grinned.

“Later.” And when her smile began to sink, he gave her a reason with a subtle shift of his hips into her swollen belly.

“Later.”

Before she could start leading him in one direction or another, Rose's knees buckled again, and her head spun a little on her neck. The room around her seemed to twirl as she struggled to get her bearings. He caught her just as she was about to fall, scooping her up into his arms with a huff.

“Hello,” he puffed as he took a step back to steady himself under her weight.

“Hello,” she parroted, blood flooding to her cheeks as she rested her head on his chest.

“Think it might be time for a lie down, hm?”

“Need the loo first.”

“First stop, then.”

He began to walk, taking big wide steps as he struggled to keep her in his arms. “Doctor, don't be silly. I can walk.”

“Do you know how long I've wanted to do this? Carry you across the threshold?”

“What, of your bathroom?” she asked as he moved in the direction of his penthouse.

“Close enough.”

“You're ridiculous.”

“You _love_ my ridiculousness,” he huffed and puffed as he strained to hold her up.

He caught her in the truth as he dropped her off in his dark marble bathroom. He didn't need to be in her thoughts to gather as much. She was always laughing at him, sides splitting in laughter at his ridiculousness, as he put it. She looked herself over in his mirror and sighed a little. She really should have done this before she became some odd hybrid of submarine and balloon. Rose stared at her reflection and hiked up her shirt over her womb. The father of the child beneath her hands was in the next room, and she was fully intent on making up for a few years of lost time. Without him peering into her thoughts, Rose had a single moment of clarity that almost had her knees buckling again. The Doctor loved her, dearly. And nobody had ever poured out their soul to her quite like he had. He deserved a lot more than her attempts at keeping him at a distance to protect him. He deserved so much more than her silly human worries. She had a few decades, she thought. Long enough to pay back every ounce of his undying love.

“Be good for mummy for a little while, okay darling?” Rose spoke to her belly. “Just for a little while, give mummy and daddy a few minutes, okay? You do that, give us a bit of peace, and I think you might be getting your name a bit later, yeah?”

Rose bit back a bit of a chuckle when she stepped into the doorway between the Doctor's bathroom and bedroom. The entire room was coated in a golden glow from dozens of candles, probably lit all at once with his sonic, she mused. Firelight danced across all of the dark coral walls. The Doctor's bed looked even bigger before her, covered in a thick navy duvet. She'd seen that it was a four poster bed with a matching blue canopy. What she hadn't seen was the figures on the posts were of wolves rearing up, ready for attack. Oh, she wanted to ask him if he was being funny. But she bit it back. She'd tortured the poor Time Lord enough. The scent of candle smoke and grilled tomatoes flooded her nose as she stepped onto the cool wooden floor properly.

“Wait, tomatoes? Doctor, is that..” Rose sniffed and asked as she stepped up to the bed.

“Breakfast, yeah. Full English, even. I didn't make this one. I think the TARDIS wants us to eat.”

She noticed his pile of clothes in front of the bed after the tray of breakfast fare on the nightstand next to him.

“And I'm not seducing a hungry mum, I'll say that. Your blood sugar's got to be low. Don't think I forgot your little spell back there.”

“I'm not that hungry,” Rose spoke to his clothes on the floor. It was partly true, with their baby pressing down on her stomach all the time. “And I'm pretty well seduced already. I mean, are you _naked_ under there?”

“Yeah you are, and yes, I am.” He paused and peeked under the duvet. “Well, I've got pants. I'm serious though. I don't want you thinking about having breakfast when I'm eating mine.” He bounced his eyebrows at her. She opened her mouth to speak, but all that came out was a squeak. “Come on then, my blushing Rose. Indulge me a little. I want to share a cuddle and breakfast with you.”

The Doctor lifted the duvet for her and scooted over so she could slip in with him. He wasn't at all shy about pulling her close. Rose sighed as his hearts greeted her ear with their march against his soft chest. He had a thin smattering of chest hair, just enough for her to nuzzle, but not too much to hide the cool flesh beneath. He helped her shift her belly so that his hips weren't poking at it as she stretched her leg across his fuzzy thighs. She was instantly thankful for only wearing a shirt and knickers. His legs were so soft, the opposite of his chiseled stomach under her wandering fingers. He reached over her head for the tray on the nightstand and brought it next to him for them to pick at.

“You robbed me of the chance to peel all those layers off, you know,” Rose complained while chewing a mouthful of toast a bit later.

“Are you angry, then?”

“A bit, yeah.”

“I was saving you a bit of trouble. You ought to be taking it easy,” he replied while licking a finger clean, and her calm heart started to canter a bit. “Let's take care of this little gem first.” He patted her stomach. “Besides, you've got no idea what I have in store once you're.. you know..”

“Not pregnant?”

He offered up the last bite of tomato, and slipped it past her lips before depositing the tray on his nightstand. “That. Oh but Rose, it does look gorgeous on you.”

“You're only saying that because I got bigger in some choice places.”

His hand had been resting on her hip, but started to test out how far it'd be allowed to wander as it slipped to her bum. The Doctor also wasn't shy about how he was peering down her shirt collar. “What? Oh come on then, Rose. I'm allowed to look now, aren't I?”

“You were looking long before you were allowed.”

“So what if I was?” the Doctor challenged, and sat up next to her, letting her head, arm and leg fall to the mattress. He reached for some big pillows next to him and arranged them into a little pile. He patted them when he was done, and waited for her to scoot over. “I'm not apologizing for appreciating your beauty, Rose,” he added. “And I'd love to appreciate it some more if you'd let me.”

Rose leaned up against the pillows and sighed as she wriggled her way into comfort. He'd really been holding out on her. And with their crisp dusty scent wafting in the air, he must have scarcely used them in the past several years.

“Sex isn't one-sided, Doctor.”

She knew that he heard her, but he didn't respond right away, and took to his task straight away. He leaned in and puffed a cool breath into her ear. She barely had any time to appreciate that he was wearing nothing but a pair of tight-fitting boxers.

“No, but unfortunately carrying a baby is. You're used to having all the control, doing all the work, aren't you?” he muttered between kisses on her jaw and neck. Rose blushed and swallowed hard.

“You've done so much already.”

“While you've done enough worrying about me.” His teeth found her collarbone and she gasped. “Time for you to give up some control, Rose,” he whispered so softly into her neck as he raised her arms above her head by her wrists. She kept them there so he could lift her shirt up and toss it to the floor. A rush of cold air swept her skin, pebbling her bare nipples. She knew he saw because his lips curled into a wicked grin. It was distinctly possible he didn't realize until then that she wasn't wearing a bra. “You're so courageous and fierce, and I _love_ it, Rose.” He kissed his way across her collarbone to her other side as she threaded her fingers into his hair. His hand slid up her belly, grazed her breast, and began to massage her other shoulder. “You're not a damsel, you're a tigress. I'm well aware, and you've got nothing to prove. Not to me, not to anyone. You've saved the world enough times. Now's the time to just relax. Let me have this.”

The Doctor stifled any further arguments with a kiss, and Rose let herself sink into the pillows, his hand pressing down on her shoulder. With his knee between her thighs, his other hand tugging so gently at her hair, and his lips catching hers, he had her trapped. She had no desire to go anywhere. His hand began to sink down to her breast, and she wanted to pull her mouth from his clutches to urge him to be gentle, but as his hand cupped her sore mound she moaned onto his slick tongue. His fingers kneaded the tender flesh while his teeth trapped a bit of her tongue between them and nipped. Rose opened her mouth wide and sucked a gasp into her gullet as her hand in his hair fell to his shoulder.

“I know they're sore. Not too rough is it?” he murmured onto her lips in between little pecks. She bit her lip and shook her head. He licked his lips. “May I?” he asked, letting his head sink a little.

“Yeah,” she rasped.

He hummed his glee as he kissed and tasted his way down to her breasts. He already had her squirming a bit, and she would be surprised if that wasn't a small contribution to his stupid grin. She didn't get but a moment to think on this because his tongue was laving at the bit of flesh beneath her breast. He eased himself in as hand began kneading at the flesh on her neglected side. Before she knew it though, he was taking her into his mouth and flicking his cold, sleek tongue at her already stiff peak. The Doctor was looking right up at Rose, but she needed to close her eyes for a moment to take it all in. The scents of candle smoke, hair gel, and her own arousal flooded her nose. It mixed with the gentle flickering of the candle wicks and the lewd squeaks of the Doctor's lips as they let her now damp flesh slip from his mouth. Closing her eyes did little to help her relax as he took care of her other side.

“Doctor..” Rose sighed, raking her fingers across his back.

He kissed her locket and held it for a moment in his palm. “Not too shabby, right?”

“I never thought you were rubbish,” Rose confessed.

“You wondered,” he challenged in between kisses on her ribs. Anticipation was already beginning to pulse and swell between her thighs.

She didn't deny this, opting instead to tug at the one garment between her and the throbbing length against her hip.

“Mm mm,” he chided gently, and flicked her fingers away from his bum. “You have that off me and this will all end a lot quicker.”

“I'm okay with that.” And she played a little, returning her hand to the waistband of his pants.

“Always rushing,” he accused through his teeth as he tasted and nibbled at her waist, skipping right over her belly. He did nothing more than sweep his hand across her womb, letting her feel the thought that it had received enough attention as of late. For the past several minutes she'd forgotten they could reach across the planes of consciousness through touch. “Don't make me slow down, Rose. I'll do it.”

“You wouldn't,” she threw back, squeezing his leg between her thighs, needing any bit of friction she could get at that point.

“I would. I've been wanting to give those poor ankles of yours a bit of loving.”

He paused to tug at her knickers a little, but only enough to get at the flesh on her hips with with his tongue and teeth. Her low moan was enough of a reward for him to stay there. Her little squeaks in response to his nips at her hipbones served as just that extra bit of encouragement. She didn't need to respond to this challenge with words, she mused to herself. All she needed to do was spread her leg that wasn't trapped between his. Just a little would be enough.

The Doctor grinned as his head slipped lower, and Rose sighed her approval. His fingers left her knickers though. He pressed his nose to the peachy lace above her clit and dropped a kiss there before moving on to her thighs. He only laughed when she growled at him. Was he challenging her? He had to know that she was going to meet it. Maybe he was expecting it. All the same, she hiked her leg up so she could curl her toes under the waistband of his pants to push them down. And she might have actually been successful at getting them off if they didn't snag on his stiff cock. Her head fell back to the pillow and she grumbled. But he paused his kisses along her thigh to remove them the rest of the way, throwing her a bone. He was serious in his claims though, as all all this meant was she had something much nicer to look at as he teased her.

He was well on his way to her kissing knee when she pushed at his shoulder to move him out of the way. He'd said nothing about her removing her knickers herself. He didn't expect her to sit still, she wagered. But he certainly didn't anticipate her cheating at his game. The Doctor needn't say anything, she found, as his swallowing a groan and digging his fingers into the mattress were a signal of defeat in and of themselves.

“Eager little minx,” he huffed as he shifted to lie down in front of her.

“That's me,” Rose hummed, and licked her teeth in a wicked grin.

“You know how much I wanted this last time?” he asked as he swept a finger across her folds. “I was too scared.”

“Are you still?” Rose asked on a hitched breath.

“A bit, yeah. I don't want to disappoint you.”

Rose bit her lip and clutched her locket in her palm. “Never. Just be careful, yeah?”

“I can hold my breath for a _really_ long time, Rose,” he peered at her from around her belly to remind her. “Have I told you how pretty you are when you blush?” She didn't answer, and watched his head disappear again. “Think we can get her to blush a little harder?” he whispered against her mons.

“Are you talking to -” The Doctor wouldn't give her a chance to finish this thought, as he dipped his tongue into her sex a moment later. He didn't even give her a chance to wonder about the veracity of his claims. “Cold!” She yipped as he snaked that slick tongue deep into her heat.

He saved his chuckle of triumph for when he retreated from her, and breathed it onto her thigh as his arm snaked around it. The Doctor wasted no time returning to his task, raking his tongue up her folds to the throbbing mass of nerves begging for his attention. And he wouldn't disappoint. He released a cool breath onto the little button before giving it a testing flick of his tongue that had her grinding her hips into the pillows.

Rose wasn't one to make noise, it never felt right in the throws of passion. As she felt his thoughts creeping along the gooseflesh on her legs, wondering if he was doing alright, she felt just a slight urge to keen his name into the peaceful silence of his bedroom. It became a squeal when he trapped her clit between his lips. Three heartbeats sped up to a sprint. She could practically feel his hearts pounding into her ears. If they were running a race, he'd be a thoroughbred, well ahead of her. Rose curled her toes into his calf and opened her mouth to sigh as he began a relentless assault on her most sensitive nerve endings with quick flicks of his tongue on her slick flesh. If that wasn't enough, he brought a finger to her sex, teasing the entrance with light sweeps along her lips. Her fingers moved from clawing the sheets to scratching at the nape of his neck, and he groaned before dipping a finger into her heat.

“You've got nothing to prove either,” Rose squeaked, uncertain if her words were intelligible coated in her trembling breaths.

She felt herself teetering on the edge already, and was squirming wildly beneath him to keep from succumbing to it. But he followed her every move. His seductions weren't deterred in the slightest by her writhing like a gazelle beneath a lion's hungry maw.

“Doesn't matter,” he muttered against her pulsing skin. “I want this.”

It was difficult to measure with so many assaults on her senses and nerves at once, but it was only a minute or two later when the Doctor got just what he wanted. As he curled his finger in her sex and nibbled at her button at once, he dispelled any ideas that he didn't know _precisely_ what he was doing. Rose might have rasped, or gurgled or shouted his name into the canopy, probably pulled his head in, daring him to move from that sweet spot he'd discovered. She knew that her vision sparked a little before he let her tumble over onto the mattress to writhe out the rest of her peak. But she wouldn't do it alone. He curled up behind her in a spoon and kissed away some sweat that had gathered on her neck as she brought herself down.

“Love you,” she whispered into his jaw as she craned her neck to give him a kiss. Her cheeks felt warm even against his cool skin, hotter as she realized it was her arousal that he was wiping off his chin and onto her shoulder.

He grinned as he returned her kiss and her love, giving her a taste of herself on his tongue. Their kisses were languorous and delightfully purposeless beyond sharing their devotion. The Doctor kissed her shoulder while nestling his slightly softened length between her throbbing folds. She stared into the nearest candle and sighed contentment as he wrapped his arm around her belly. His hearts beat slowly into her back along with measured breaths. She felt they could easily fall asleep this way if it weren't for his stiffening cock teasing her still recovering sex.

“Gently?” he prompted several minutes later.

“Hm?”

She'd fallen into a bit of a daze, letting only the sounds of candles flickering, the TARDIS humming, and the Doctor's occasional kisses on her neck and shoulder stream into her ears. He'd been nuzzling her face for a bit, tickling her cheek with his growing stubble.

“Gently. I mean, I know it's been a bit since we.. you know. But it's also, I'm a lot more, I'm not as nervous as last time so I might be.. well..” he hummed a muffled giggle, “and I don't want to hurt you.. or you know, put any strain on you.. since it'll be soon..”

“I was a bit harsh to you last time, Doctor,” Rose cut into his nattering and squeezed his hand tight. “You were so kind and gentle, and I was horrible to you.”

“You didn't mean it.”

“I did, though. I knew you wanted more and I was _terrified_. I thought maybe if I bit back you wouldn't want to pursue this any further. That night in the library, you wanted to use telepathy, didn't you? And I was too self absorbed to really pay attention to what you were saying.”

“It's okay, Rose,” he soothed, and gently rutted his hips against hers, reminding her of his desires.

“It's not, though. Can you imagine how different it'd all be right now if I hadn't been such a git, Doctor? I'm ashamed our baby was conceived that way.”

“Life springs, Rose. It finds a way.”

“I want another chance,” Rose gulped down a tear and released her breath in a sigh.

He kissed the crown of her head and grinned. “One baby at a time, shall we?”

“I'm serious, Doctor.”

He held onto her womb tight as he shifted behind her. She supposed he didn't want to wait any longer, and couldn't blame him. His hand left her belly and brushed her folds. Rose couldn't see past her swollen belly, but she felt his cock making sweeps along her slick heat. The attention wasn't lost on her, and she muffled a moan into a pillow as he brushed her still sensitive clit. Rose lifted her thigh a little to give him better access. And it was all he needed, evidently, because a moment later they both gasped a breath together as he slipped inside.

“I know you're serious,” he finally replied. She'd all but forgotten they were even speaking as he very slowly filled her. “So am I. I know you don't want to go back. You're wishing, yeah?” Rose yipped instead of giving him any proper verbal affirmation. “I wouldn't change a thing, not a single moment. They've all been too precious to me.”

They paused for a long, blissful moment as the Doctor created a slow rhythm rocking his hips against hers. Rose found his free hand under her neck and gave it a kiss. His skin might have been cool, but the heat from all the candles in the room made Rose's skin slick with heat. His stomach clung to her back as he moved with her, inside her. This time they were joined not with tension or purpose but with pleasure and devotion. The doubt and uncertainty that Rose felt coating the air the first time they'd been together felt like a fog that had been lifted. And though the air in the glow of the Doctor's dark bedroom was filled with smoke and dust, it was clear. She didn't feel as though she might fall at any moment. His grip on her stomach was firm, his hold on her heart was solid.

“Rose, please, can I?” the Doctor pleaded with his nose pressed to her temple.

Rose had meant to ask him before he'd gotten to this, but got distracted by the weight of her guilt. And now she was neglecting to even answer, clouded by the pleasure rocketing to her core as he buried himself inside her to the hilt, pulsing and throbbing against her clenching muscles. Suddenly the prospect of that extra layer of excitement seemed a bit much, but in the best way. Nevertheless, this was important to the Doctor.

“Of course,” Rose panted as he picked up the pace.

She couldn't have known it back in the abandoned tea house, but he'd fumbled into her consciousness. This time felt more like slipping beneath a few satin blankets, suddenly nestled in warmth and safety. Every thought that slipped into her mind was like a sip of sparkling wine, and she drank them all in eagerly. Now it wasn't just her own pleasure teetering on the edge of a climax as he filled her completely, but his as well. And Rose became lost in a thick fog of mixed thoughts, devotion, shared pleasure, and pure bliss. Even though she felt like she could fall with him at any moment, Rose seemed to become numb to the passage of time around her. She set her thoughts of loving him free, letting every little door fly open. He returned every bit of these feelings that she shared with him. Rose felt like she could melt right into his mattress when she became overtaken the Doctor pealing her name into her ear. He released her just in time for her to feel every muscle tightening around him as everything between them – every little nerve ending, muscle and expanse of pulsing flesh – sizzled and sparked.

Rose might not have passed out this time, but she certainly fell into a bit of a stupor, the Doctor's thoughts and pleasure still spilling into her moments later. At least he didn't seem to fare any better, puffing jets of cool breaths onto her sticky cheek as he rubbed her thigh. She brought that hand to her lips and gave it a kiss before letting them both fall to her belly. This seemed to rouse the Doctor, who took to humming as he kissed his way down her cheek to her slick shoulder.

“Love you,” he whispered to the little mole on her shoulder.

“No doubt about that. I felt it.”

“You felt it before, too. You just didn't deny it this time, is all.”

“I didn't – ”

“Shh, it's okay. We're here now, that's what matters.”

Though she did try her hardest not to, Rose fell asleep shortly after this. She was allowed, she told herself. Rose felt enveloped in the softness of the Doctor's deep mattress, downy pillows and luxurious sheets. Nobody had ever ventured into this room, she considered in her slumber. Her nose was wrapped up in the scents of his cologne and the thick fog of their lovemaking. Not that she cared, but Rose got the distinct impression that no woman had ever ventured into this room. She might have been just a little bit smug. Strange though, she thought, that this is what she'd be proud of after learning that no woman had ever carried his offspring in their womb.

Rose woke up some time later as they had been for the past several weeks. The Doctor was nestled up to her belly singing to her as he was wont to do. A renewed blush flooded her face when she realized he was singing her song to the baby again. Even if it was in his own tongue now, she now knew the meaning behind it. He didn't detect her waking up straight away, so she listened as he concluded his song and moved to talking to her.

“I can't decide, sweetheart,” the Doctor sighed, and kissed her belly. She didn't have the heart to tell him he was kissing the baby's bum. He probably knew. Maybe he didn't care. “I thought I might have more time to narrow the list down. “How do you think Mummy feels about five names, hm?”

“You two are talking names without me?” Rose pouted as she alerted him to her awakening with a cat-like stretch and groan.

“Not a chance. Just seeing if I could narrow down my list is all.”

Rose shifted to sit up, and propped herself up on a bunch of pillows. “You don't want her to have a name like yours, do you? No 'the-something?'”

He burst into a fit of laughter and answered when he came back down with a sigh. “No. I have no interest in passing on the naming conventions of my people, Rose. I rather like yours, the human way.”

“Even if she was Gallifreyan like you?”

“I like the idea of bestowing a wish on our child with her name. I want the whole universe to know how I feel about her, not keep it a secret and squirrel it away. Now, if she wants to choose her own name later, that'd be different.” Rose looked at them both with a smile as he rubbed her belly. “Besides. A name is only the top layer of her identity. Her true self lies beneath. That's something that our baby will decide for herself, with our gentle guidance as she grows.”

“Doctor..” Rose cooed. He beamed at her, smug as he sat up to steal her lips for a chaste kiss. “How is it you don't have hundreds of kids roaming the universe by now?”

He shrugged. “Haven't had anyone that I wanted to wanted to populate the universe with.”

She touched foreheads with him as she licked her lips and whispered her love onto his. He was utterly ridiculous, and hers. “Read off those five names to me, Doctor?”

“Well, technically there's six. The last one I think is the TARDIS's idea. No other reason for the word being displayed on all of the monitors yesterday, at least. Not that I can fathom.” A chill ran down Rose's spine upon hearing these words. She was overcome with a feeling of deja vu, so much that she nearly didn't hear the Doctor's list. “Well, they're all from your planet. Words that I've picked up along my travels that I like. There's a word in Sanskrit, Amara, that means immortality. Then there's Stella and Danica. Latin and Slavic respectively. They essentially.. well, they're different words. But they both mean star, more or less. I just like the name Sadie, don't you, Rose? I heard it in 19th century North America, I think? 20Th maybe.” Rose cleared her throat and he moved on. “The last one I picked up when we were in Ancient Greece with Jack.. Amari. It means..”

“Eternal, I remember. You were talking about it all day,” Rose smiled and cut in. “What's the one the TARDIS came up with?”

He rolled his eyes a little. “Oh, you're not gonna pick hers over mine. Come on, Rose.”

“I want to hear it. She's been suffering lately. Maybe she wants to be a part of it, Doctor. Our baby was conceived on the TARDIS.”

“Alina.”

Rose cooed and clapped her hands. She felt the baby kicking at her ribs. This one had to be a winner. “Is that Gallifreyan?”

“No, that's Greek too. It means light.”

“Light?”

“Yeah.”

Rose looked down at her womb and made attempts at soothing her child's excitement. In a short moment she'd never felt her child kicking so fiercely, like she was attempting Tae Kwon Do on her organs. It wouldn't be fair to go against their baby's wishes, Rose thought.

“I think she likes that one, Doctor. Can we go with that one, Alina?”

“Light..” the Doctor muttered.

She shifted as her back began to spasm and ache. “Yeah.”

He shook his head and pulled back the duvet she suddenly felt like she was baking under. “No, Rose. _Light_.”

 

Just as Rose looked down she was blinded, and the room became bathed in a fierce golden glow emanating from Rose's womb, right where their baby should be.

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose and the Doctor decide to have a baby together. After she becomes pregnant with his first womb born child, the Doctor realizes that he wants to raise a baby with more than just his best friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [allegoricalrose](http://allegoricalrose.tumblr.com/)'s baby!fic [prompt](http://allegoricalrose.tumblr.com/post/114087004514/ok-think-about-this-ten-rose-au-where-they-are).
> 
> I'd like to extend a huge thank you to the lovely [veritascara](http://veritascara.tumblr.com/) for sharing with me her vast knowledge of labor and delivery, and for her wonderful beta work. Thank you! <3
> 
> And with that being said, this is a birth scene. Please be aware that it will get dicey in a few places. 
> 
> It's also worth mentioning that the last chapter should be arriving within a day or so.

“ _I think she likes that one, Doctor. Can we go with that one, Alina?”_

“ _Light..” the Doctor muttered._

_She shifted as her back began to spasm and ache. “Yeah.”_

_He shook his head and pulled back the duvet she suddenly felt like she was baking under. “No, Rose. Light.”_

_Just as Rose looked down she was blinded, and the room became bathed in a fierce golden glow emanating from Rose's womb, right where their baby should be._

  


For humans, breathing was automatic, a vital process in life. It was certainly vital for the Doctor as well. The difference was that he could choose _not_ to breathe, rob himself of the sweet musk of lovemaking that still wafted in the air long after his union with Rose. He could even close his eyes and blind himself to the golden light from inside Rose's womb that was stinging his eyes. He could blind himself to the truth, make the plausible truly impossible again if he really tried hard enough.

And mark this, it was truly, very sincerely impossible, what the Doctor was thinking as he tripped into the nearest article of clothing, a pair of pyjama bottoms that would have to suffice. He offered her his dressing gown, which she turned down as she swept her arm across her misty brow. All the while he repeated his mantra of denial, flying around Rose who sat on his bed, dumbstruck as an animal headed to the abattoir. At least he'd been prepared. Not long after he finished the nursery, the Doctor stashed a wheelchair away in his room for when Rose went into labor.

That was the worst of it. With every frantic sweep around the bed, letting Rose's worried calls for him slip past his ears, the Doctor checked for any visible signs of labor. Surely her water could have broken. But even if it had, Alina was still relying on her mother to support her life. Rose and Alina's lives were intertwined. The pretty pink and yellow ribbons dancing around a maypole that the Doctor had been envisioning became a python constricting a helpless little mouse. For as innocent as Alina's precious little life was, by regenerating inside her mother she could within the span of a few minutes render herself motherless.

That was the reality that the Doctor faced as he helped Rose into a wheelchair, returning her vows of love from a quivering breath and promising to value the child's life above hers. It didn't matter that nothing was set in stone, that nothing had happened yet. Anything to secure Rose, he told himself. He bit back the lie as one might swallow a watermelon. He couldn't close himself off to her completely, for it might be his only telepathic connection to Alina. So Rose would know, he choked bitterly, that it was a lie. But she had to also know that he could only manage all this one hurried step at a time. He couldn't be certain, as every time he spoke her brow dug into her strained eyes. When his hand brushed her neck, hints of doubt and confusion at his words crept into his consciousness.

The Doctor told Rose the truth at least when she asked if he knew what was happening. He could have fibbed just a little and told her that he had no idea. But his every honed instinct, after regenerating so many times and witnessing countless others over the years, he knew precisely what was going on. It didn't matter that he'd never seen a human fetus regenerate – or rather _generate_ – into a Gallifreyan one. He could almost taste the lindos, that incredibly distinct Time Lord regeneration hormone as it floated around Rose in that golden glow. He wasn't one to pray, but he did this time, to anyone that would listen, that his child would hold on long enough for him to deliver her before her generation kicked in full force.

The unknown prickled his skin, and crept up his spine until it smothered even his busy mind. How long could Alina hold off? Was it even possible to generate inside her mother's womb? How long was the process for an infant? Did Alina need to be inside her mother still for it to work? She already had her work cut out for her just to be born, a few weeks early even. And she wanted to add the dicey process of regenerating into the mix? If there had ever been a doubt, this eager, adventurous little girl was definitely theirs.

Rose yanked him out of his frenzied pondering with the same sort of husky, gasping moans that had been the norm on occasion the past few weeks. Only this time she doubled over in the wheelchair as he halted it and crashed to his knees next to her. These contractions, he thought as he laid a hand to Rose's bare glowing stomach, were very real. Rose grabbed his free hand and dug her talons into his palm as he briefly rested his head on her womb. For a few seconds the frenzy slowed to a crawl and allowed the Doctor to meet Rose's still gaze, framed in her face's deep flush and paired with ruby red lips. She'd been chewing on those lips, and was now tugging at them with what strength she had to make a smile for him to see. It was quick, a flash, just before she realized why he'd stopped in the first place. She was sitting in a warm puddle now, and she almost managed to conceal the twinge of panic that sneaked onto her face.

The Doctor kissed his daughter's tiny little bum beneath her mother's golden-lit skin, blessing her timing and praying that it would remain in their favor. It had to. In the pulsing silence he admitted to the goddess he knelt before that he was a mere man with two hearts. He dropped another quivering kiss to her altar, both hands quaking. She was the one that needed him to be strong and put on a good face, despite how his insides were pounding and churning from every direction.

“Just like we practiced, Rose, eh, hm?” he soothed, speaking to her in English for the first time since he lept off their bed in a panic.

“She'll be alright, Doctor, yeah?” she huffed between groans as the Doctor wheeled her into the infirmary. “Promise me.”

The Doctor brought the wheelchair in front of the infirmary bed intended for Rose's labor. He silently – telepathically if she could hear him – begged his child to not make this bed into anything but that. The truth of the matter was that touching a regenerating Time Lord could prove to be deadly to humans. He'd never seen it, but he knew the truth of it. And this Time Lord (or baby, rather), if his instincts were on par, was inside her mother, touching her in the most intimate way possible. He begged for luck, wished that the hormones present in a fetus were different from a full grown Time Lord's. That and Alina – he hoped – wasn't dying. While the Doctor helped Rose up onto the bed he cursed his advanced mind's ability to multitask. He pondered his situation as he rallied every bit of necessary medical equipment he could muster. The realization that he was to deliver his own child, a task involving villages in many cultures, stung him fiercely just then.

“Doctor, promise me she'll be alright,” Rose cuffed his wrist and kept him from flying away to assemble more supplies at the ready. He heard this plea the first time, but only considered it just then when their child's mother shot him daggers with her glistening eyes. “That you'll save her,” she added.

“She doesn't need saving, Rose. Nothing's happened yet.”

“Yet. You're terrified, Doctor.”

He considered every possibility while hooking Rose and Alina up to monitors, strapping a thin belt around mum's glowing belly. There couldn't be any time vortex left in Rose, he rationalized based on the simple logic that it had killed him in less than a minute. Even traces could wreck the delicate ecosystem inside a human body, not to mention he'd have been able to detect it. Their child had been conceived on board a TARDIS, surrounded at most times by the time vortex, true. But the levels required to encourage her to grow as a Gallifreyan in the womb would kill Rose. Of course, maybe their baby was just clever enough to work this bit out and was waiting patiently for her turn. Still, he would have known, would have _felt it_ , he was convinced.

“I'm fine, Rose. Everything's fine, isn't it?” the Doctor plopped himself on a wheeled stool and nearly crashed into a set of drawers across the infirmary. “Our baby's being born on such a wonderful day, eh?”

“Don't you dare. Don't shut me out. Not now, Doctor. Not ever, not after we've come this far. You're still my best friend, and friends don't do that.” She spat back his attempts at easing tension while he checked her pulse, eyes glued to the little black monitor next to her bed.

Everything appeared to be eerily normal from the stupid machinery's end. Of course it wouldn't know any better. But it could tell the Doctor that Alina and Rose had two healthy heartbeats between them at that moment. He could have monitored them both alone, but on this day he didn't trust himself. A moment's distraction could cost his beloved or his daughter their precious lives. The universe would have to pry their fierce heartbeats right out of the safety of his and the TARDIS's watchful eyes.

“Right now you both sound fine,” the Doctor murmured while gently massaging the back of her hand before sticking it with the IV needle and hooking it up.

“What’s that, what're you doing?” Rose interrupted while casting a wary eye at the clear bag dangling above her head.

“Just fluids, Rose. We need you hydrated.” He paused to take a few deep breaths and clasped her hand tight. An angry thought stung the nape of his neck. “ _She_ needs you hydrated too. You're sweating it all out.”

“Well I feel like an oven,” she grimaced. “My stomach feels like it's on fire.”

The Doctor was quite certain the last words Rose wanted to hear were, “That's perfectly normal given there's a time baby about to generate in your womb.” They nearly slipped from his uncensored mind.

“Alina is changing,” the Doctor replied on a sigh. “You've seen that before. You know what it is.”

“Has this happened before? I mean, with other Time Lords?”

He smoothed his fingers over her knees and sought permission to part them with his eyes. Rose nodded and covered her eyes. He shoved his specs up his nose. His head wanted to spin, perhaps right off its socket. As he wriggled into a pair of gloves, he realized the last time he was between Rose's legs – the last time he’d _touched_ Rose between her legs – was during a much happier time, seemingly only a few minutes ago. He shook his head and swept his arm his weedy tresses. The only idea worse than doing the delivery himself was having a stranger anywhere near Rose and his baby. And he was glad for it when even he was unsure what to do in this situation. Act as they had planned, he thought. It was all he could do. Alina was still a baby, still struggling to enter the world, no matter what species she ended up being along the way.

“Humans can't give birth to Time Lords, Rose.”

He didn't blame her for throwing her hands up in the air. “Except that I am! You just said!”

“Well you're definitely in labor. But we've got a while yet to go.”

“What does that mean? Will regenerating in there hurt her?”

The Doctor wheeled around the infirmary bed and sighed. “Generate. And that's not what I'm worried about right now.” He saw her mouth opening to protest, but was just a millisecond quicker. “I know what you're thinking, and we're not going there, Rose. I'm not doing anything unless it's absolutely necessary.”

She didn't reply for a few minutes. Only the hum of the TARDIS and the beeps of Alina's monitor brought them any solace. They watched the rocking waves of her tiny heart's beats as he rubbed his hands along Rose's belly. The deceptively peaceful silence didn't last long, as Rose's next round of contractions came like a storm on the sea. Though they disappeared as suddenly as they'd arrived, they reminded Rose of the rough seas ahead.

“What if it becomes necessary, Doctor?”

“I won't let.. we won't get to that point. So far we're doing okay, Rose,” he stammered.

It was true. But the worry of what each passing minute might bring wanted to pull down every defense that the Doctor had carefully put up. He teetered on the edge of insanity in the first few hours, expecting all hell to break out of Rose's uterus along with his little girl's generation. The only heart rate that picked up during this time was his own pair during every one of Rose's contractions. He supported her through each wave, massaging her back as he sang to her in a low hum old Gallifreyan lullabies. The latter ended up being more for his own benefit, as with each point of contact he had with Rose he felt every bit of Rose's frustrations and fears, and some degree of her pain. If he'd had a connection to her nerve endings he would have to recuse himself from the job of Rose's midwife.

She never asked for anything for the pain, for which he was thankful. The Doctor had it all, of course. He'd made certain he was prepared. He never wanted Rose to endure any pain that could be safely managed. But these preparations all came long before their child decided to change the plans. Even when their lives were turning decidedly domestic, life still found a way to throw a wrench into it. The Doctor could take a lot of the same medications that humans could. But he was a fully grown adult. There were a few big no-no's, of course. But aside from that? The unknown struck once again. The TARDIS had all manner of advanced medical equipment, and the Doctor was terrified to use any of it. Their lives were too precious to gamble with as he did with the rest of the universe.

He did at least throw a bottle of lotion into the blast chiller to help cool down Rose's belly and mild fever. Just the little bit of relief it gave her climbed from her skin to his fingertips, sharing with the Doctor the wave of calm energy that swept over her for a few minutes. And he found himself sighing soft moans kissed right onto her shoulder right alongside her own.

The Doctor never imagined he might have been lulled into even the slightest bit of complacency when Rose went into labor. But he found himself sitting behind her for most of the first six hours, and walking with her hand in hand when she felt the need to walk off a bit of the heat burning up her belly. His hand almost never left her back, leaving it only to check on Alina and brush away occasional tears from her mum's balmy cheeks. He was careful not to mention what was going on with Alina's generation, opting instead to tell her how she should have been shifting in Rose's womb as she worked to bring herself into the world. In that regard there was nothing unusual going on. For brief moments everything faded away from the Doctor's consciousness (despite his promises to himself not to) but the flood of awe at human nature overwhelming his senses. Mother and child worked together, and though the push and pull was as gentle as a wrestling match, they were doing everything they ought to.

At one point, probably due to his bare chest being flush with Rose and feeling every trickle of her raging hormones, he shed a few of his own tears down the gentle slope of her back. He had villainized his own child, for brief moments considering her a ticking time bomb inside her mother's womb. Whatever happened, he couldn't blame her for it, as there was no way she would ever intentionally harm her own mother. If she was to any degree his child there was no way she would want to hurt Rose.

Reminding himself of this fact became difficult as they approached the seventh hour. Perhaps everything was proceeding too smoothly, as Alina then heated things up, quite literally. The gentle glow that bathed the white infirmary with a golden light intensified. Rose's mild fever skyrocketed in a matter of minutes. At the same time, Alina's heart rate began to fall.

“Doctor, what's going on? What're you doing?” Rose cried, trembling madly like a little mouse facing a lion.

“We need to cool you both down,” the Doctor shouted as he dashed across the room to grab two armfuls of ice packs.

“What if she needs everything hotter, Doctor?” Rose glanced at Alina's monitor and then dug a pleading gaze into him. “Could this hinder her generation?”

The Doctor didn't answer straight away, and watched the monitor for a few breaths. He bit back the thought that she sounded ridiculous. She could have a point, he had no way of knowing. For all the Doctor knew, Rose was spot on, it might have been good for Alina. He sniffed a harsh breath and cleared his throat while mowing his fingers through his sweat-dewy lawn. Arguing with Rose, particularly now, always sapped a bit of life out of him. Who was cleverer, Alina’s shifting instincts (and her mother potentially encouraging them), or the Doctor’s past experience? Who was right? Either way it was a gamble. What he _did_ know was that no harm was coming to Alina in that moment without cooling Rose down. It seemed both of the women in his life were doing what they could in that precise moment to push him into his own stress-induced regeneration. He rather liked this face. _Rose_ liked this face. He wanted it to be the one Alina saw. He wanted to keep it. So why were they making this so difficult for him?

It was this thought that saw the Doctor placing ice packs under Rose’s arms and behind her neck. Alina was clever enough to start her own generation cycle. Her heart rate was still slowing down, but she could only do so much. She would have to find a way to do what she needed to while he cooled mum down.

“Let’s just trust her on this one, Rose. Just a little,” the Doctor asserted gently, while wiping her brow.

Rose raised her head a little and looked down at her glowing womb. “How dilated am I?”

“Rose.”

“Go on then, check,” she nodded, and shifted into place, daring him with her dagger eyes to defy her any further.

As they spoke the Doctor counted Alina's heartbeats in his head. The more they argued, the slower it became. He silently and telepathically begged her to behave. He'd foolishly believed in the past several hours that father and daughter had come to an agreement that daughter would take it easy on mother. He spun in the stool and crashed into the infirmary bed after putting on a fresh pair of gloves. As he gently parted Rose's thighs he allowed himself one little daydream from the other side of the mountain they were climbing. Though his spindly fingers were shaking like dead limbs on a tree, threatening to crack under pressure, they were still up to the task checking how dilated Rose’s cervix was.

“It's not time, not just yet, Rose,” the Doctor answered.

“But we're getting close, aren't we? I can _feel_ it. I want to push,” Rose panted hoarsely.

“Not just yet.”

He thanked her for not asking for a number. But the truth was still staring him right in the face. His sneaky child moved really fast in an hour, he thought. Only a couple centimeters to go. Was it good that she was rushing, or did he need to slow her down? _Could_ he slow her down? As he fretted the golden light grew that much fiercer, and Rose began to shout into the ceiling as her next bout of contractions hit. He supposed that answered one question.

He longed to return to the natural peace of the past several hours. Oh, he _craved_ it, to be able to simply stand behind Rose and slowly sway with her as she worked through her pain as they held her womb together. Where did Alina's fierce heartbeat run off to? Why was she making every effort to bake her mother alive and scare her half to death? This wasn't a part of the deal. The deal (that Alina never agreed to evidently) was she was to be a good little baby and come into the world like any other child would. There'd be nobody to help him if things went awry. No Jackie to bark orders at him to keep him alert, no Jack to hold Rose's hand while Mickey helped the Doctor. It was just him and Alina. Did she know this? That if anything happened, Rassilon forbid he faint, she'd be left alone with poor Rose?

“What would you treat yourself with if Alina was you?” Rose asked, pulling him once again from his adrenaline-fueled deliberation.

“Something that could kill you,” he croaked and sniffed. His mouth still hung open after he spoke, knowing full well what Rose was about to say next. And he shook his head, as if it'd be enough to stop them from traveling down this road. “She's still human, Rose. It could...”

“It'd work in small doses though, wouldn't it? Otherwise you'd have just said no.”

The Doctor pouted his lips and shook his head while he replied, “It might. But Rose...”

“So then let's try it,” Rose moaned, and clutched her belly.

There were only small traces of the Rose he knew left. Her skin was bright pink where it wasn't being fashioned into the bulb of Alina's torch. Her eyes turned a shade of bright amber, curtained only by her exhaustion; her determination could have singed his glistening eyes. He'd tried so hard to put on a good face, but it crumbled right before her and gave way to the flood gates. In truth she’d been the stronger one along. But wasn’t that how it had always been between them? At any rate, she wouldn't need his strength if she was threatening him with her murderous gaze, daring him to defy her. He wasn't going to be permitted to come between Rose and her instincts to protect the life of her child.

“Rose, please don't make me do this.”

She huffed at him. “If there's another way that'll protect her, I'm all for it.”

His tears were doing nothing to impede her determination. His mouth hung open anticipating his miraculous answer to solve all of their problems. All the while his ears were tugging at his consciousness. Alina's heart was still slowing down, all the while she was still shifting and struggling to do her job. But even a baby Time Lord would still need help if she continued down this route. He certainly wasn't about to cut Rose open. Not by himself. That could have meant a death sentence for both mum and baby given Rose's state.

Without a word he sprinted across the room and dashed into the medicine closet, reappearing with a sickly green bag of fluids to hook into Rose's IV. Most days he never felt all 900-odd years of his long life. He felt every one of them wanting to shove him to the floor and tell him he was too old for this. If he managed to survive this one with the same face it might just be a miracle, he thought.

“Why are you so eager to martyr yourself, Rose?” the Doctor asked before he could censor himself. He closed his eyes and clutched her hand tight, squeezing it with the hopes that doing so would keep her awake, alive, well. Anything to ease his heartrending worries.

Rose answered him in a horrifyingly familiar vacant tone. “This was her wish.”

The Doctor's eyes flew open to find hers trained on his, wide and glistening and _gold_. Truly this was a day for all of his nightmares to come true. “No no no no no,” he stammered, and fell off his stool to the floor. “No! No you _don't_!”

 _Her_ eyes were trained on him, just as they had been before. As if it wasn't enough that Bad Wolf visited his nightmares. She had to be staring him right in the face. Rose had left the room, as far as he was concerned, replaced by the goddess clutching Rose's belly and his child, taking possession of them both. The Doctor crawled up off the floor and backed away from the infirmary bed to watch, frozen, as Rose's body arched off the bed and blinded him with golden light.

“No, no, no! Stop! You can’t do this! Not yet!” the Doctor barked.

Rose's body crashed to the bed in a minute, limp before it was thrust right into another round of contractions. Too soon. He watched, dumbstruck and helpless before they were over and those haunting eyes trained themselves on him again.

“I can,” the hungry wolf protested. A sickening grin spread across her face. “Remember, Doctor?” She forced herself to sit up. “ _I bring life_.”

The Doctor shielded his eyes with his arms and cautiously approached Rose. He still needed to look after Alina, no matter what was going on. Much to his frustration, no matter what it was doing to Rose, the medication was helping Alina's heart rate return to normal. But they were moving too fast.

“You're going to tear her apart.”

“This is what she wants. Are you going to turn down her gift to you, Doctor? What will you tell her, if you keep me from helping, when she wakes from this to your dead child?”

“Stop!”

That grin only spread wider on Rose's flushed face. “Is that any way to speak to me, after all that I have done for you, _Thief_?”

A cold wave of dread raced down the Doctor's spine and pricked his toes. It was all he could do to remain standing. “You,” he growled, voice and eyelids hanging low. “ _What did you do_?!”

“Come here and I will show you,” she answered with an outstretched palm. He hated that Rose's sweet voice could sound so malicious under the wrong influence. It was _wrong_.

“There's no time for that! I can't leave Rose and Alina alone.”

She rolled her eyes. “Would you stop protesting for one moment? Just one.” He could hear the both of them in these words. He didn't have much choice but to obey.

 _Our younger Rose stood in front of the console as the hatch to my heart opened. She bared her soul to me, Thief. She exposed herself, every atom of her existence, every drop of blood, every tear, every thought, every_ wish _. You know some of this story already. She looked into me, and I into her. You cannot hope to ever come close to truly comprehending the depth of her love for you, Thief. Nobody that you have ever encountered feels for us both as she does. She would have done_ anything _to save you that day._

“ _He can't do this alone by himself. The Doctor shouldn't ever be alone. He needs someone at his side, someone to hold his hand. And as long as I've got you, it'll have to be me. Just.. don't ever let him be alone, yeah? He's the worst by himself. I can't ever have his heart break. He can't face the universe alone. He just can't.”_

 _Those were her wishes. That is what she told me, albeit unwittingly. How her heart wept and sang for you, Thief. I could not resist the urge to be close to her just as you never could. You have always thought of_ your _love for her. But what of mine? I found it that day, did you know? You might have heard her voice when we came to rescue you, but it was the both of us speaking in turns. That is who the “Bad Wolf” you refer to is. Both of us. And though you removed the time vortex she absorbed, you could never sever the connection I have to her. I was unwilling to give it up, as was she, whether she was aware of it or not. I have always been with her._

_Our Rose has wanted nothing more in this world but to give you a companion that will stay with you always. A special gift for her best friend, her Doctor. She had no way of knowing it, but I had the ability to help her, Thief. You are not the only one weak to her tender heart's wishes. The child we give birth to is as much mine as she is Rose's. Alina is mine. I gave her a name. I intend to love her as I do you. It is all Rose has ever wanted, and so I am helping her achieve her heart's desire._

“You have a choice, Doctor. You can either help us or stand back. Alina and I are going to help Rose's wish come true, whether you like it or not.”

She severed the connection harshly, nearly sending the Doctor collapsing to the floor again. His pulse hammered in his skull, beating right into his eyes so much that he couldn't see. Or maybe it was the light wafting around the infirmary bed. He couldn't say which. He did know that he felt like a sickly husk as he moved to check on Alina's progress, thanking his hands for still being able to work. His eyes darted from the coral roundel clock to Rose and he had to clutch the bed to keep from fainting. The TARDIS had him under for damn near an hour, during which time Rose's cervix became fully dilated. It should have been impossible. It had felt like a blink of an eye. But then this day was one for impossibilities to come true.

“It's.. it's.. ah, it's time,” the Doctor spoke into Rose's thigh with closed eyes. He looked up and for a split second hoped to see Rose's eyes beaming back at him. He'd be disappointed. “You can't be in there, you'll kill her,” he frowned.

“I would have already. Just trust us. It is just me, I will not harm her. She needs me,” she fought back, and ground her feet into the bed with a moan. “Help us,” she cried.

The Doctor spoke only to his child and Rose, who must have been somewhere beneath the ship's mental hold on her. But she was in there, he could feel her reaching out to him. He couldn't think about her heart's weakening beat with each passing minute. Time gave way to his own determination. Doctor. Alina. Rose. That was it, that was everything; his family, as it was supposed to be. Sound melted around him before it could reach his numb ears. Only his hands rubbing Rose's legs, his eyes watching Alina, and his voice encouraging Rose worked. Nothing else. It was all he needed.

It quickly became a race against time, the worst sort that the Doctor might ever encounter. The stronger Alina grew, the weaker her mother became. The closer he came to greeting his child, the slower Rose's heart beat. He could feel the TARDIS tugging at her consciousness with all her might. But Rose's body could only do so much. She put him in the worst position as long as he still had a shred of hope for them both. It was far too late to cut her open, far too dangerous. Alina was so very close, so strong. She might have been past needing medicinal help. Taking them off the medication meant making a gamble with Alina's life. The TARDIS's words haunted his subconscious. How could he ever live with himself if it meant killing his child?

The Doctor knew what he needed to do. A brief glimpse of brown eyes peaked through as he watched Rose's monitor. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words would come after a couple of croaks. Only his tears fogging up his vision could speak to her. His aching hearts reached out to her, speaking her name, singing her song. Anything to be heard, just for Rose. His hands quaked, and he prayed they could do their job when the time came, which was approaching swiftly.

“Almost there, Rose. Just.. just.. just one more push, eh?” he stammered, hiccuping away his grief.

If she made any sounds, he didn't hear them. They were drowned out as a white light consumed the entire room. For a painfully long moment the Doctor couldn't be certain of anything. He begged for it to end, to be allowed to see and feel. His hearts raced ahead of him, for the time being the only parts of him that could work. Rose, Alina, Rose, Alina, they beat in turn. If he breathed, it would have been air right into their lungs if could've managed. If only he could breathe life.

Life came in the form of a gasping squall. The room dimmed, and the Doctor looked around to see a tiny red creature squealing in his arms. He’d somehow managed to catch her amidst the blinding light, thank Rassilon. He moved swiftly, cutting the umbilical cord and rushing Alina to the awaiting cart next to the bed. A living child. For the moment that is all he allowed himself to see. A living little baby girl that needed his help. Needed her daddy.

“It's okay, Daddy's here, eh sweetheart?” the Doctor soothed her as he laid her down on the table. This is where he could trust himself to act quickly. He cleaned her off and checked her vital signs. Two hearts beating. The safe number had thusly changed.

It was a concept he'd adopted long before he met Rose. There was always a safe number, a symphony of lives playing out in the Doctor's finely tuned ears. Every heart was a different instrument, and they were all needed for him to feel as though there was hope in any given situation. As long as they were alive, hearts beating normally as they should, they could manage. At times the Doctor likened Rose to a guitar, others a harp, maybe even a pair of timpani drums if she was cross enough with him. But her number had always been one. One vibrant heart lapping away it his pair. Three. Three was the magic number. In the past several months that number had become four. Two for the Doctor, one for Alina, one for Rose. Now they were two for the Doctor, _two_ for Alina, one for Rose. Five, simple math. Except, as the Doctor wrapped up baby Alina in blankets to keep her warm, the numbers weren't adding up. Four. Two for the Doctor, two for Alina, none for Rose.

It had only been but a few seconds. But it was enough. That was all it took. Traces of the TARDIS slipped away from Rose and left her lying on the bed, her monitor wildly seeking his attention with its erratic trilling. Rose lay on the bed lifeless. Lifeless. The absolute worst, most horrific word in the English language, in any language. Just hours ago the Doctor was singing to her and promising her that her light could never fade. But just as the golden glow bathing the room had drained, so did the life right from Rose.

The Doctor’s fingers fumbled with the electrodes on a nearby table. When it all started he’d gathered every bit of equipment he’d hoped to never have to use, and there they were making themselves absolutely necessary as he stuck the pads to Rose’s chest. His body was working of its own accord, absent to everything but the work that needed to be done and the heart-shattering shrieking of his terrified and defenseless child. The shock of being thrust into the cold world alone was enough. She'd had to face her own generation as well. She deserved to be adorned with love, hugs and kisses. She deserved the universe on a platter. He couldn't fault her for being angry for the deprivation. But there was one person more so than himself that should have been the one to shower her with all of that love and warmth. And her body jumped off the infirmary bed with a shock before falling right back down, lifeless. He waited only a few seconds before beginning CPR, hating that Rose’s human physiology needed a minute to work (if he was particularly lucky).

The first shock failed. And though the Doctor could have tried again, a single failure was enough to diminish his faith in technology for once. It was a ridiculous notion in the first place. If anyone was going to save Rose it was going to be himself. He'd done so before, he could do it again. Bad Wolf wasn't the only one who could bring life. Rose was a fighter, and if he was the one lying on the infirmary bed she would do the same for him. She would die herself before giving up on him. A few years ago she very nearly did.

“Fight!” he urged her both with his palm and fist and his growl. “I'm not doing this without you! That's not fair!” he sobbed and panted, rocking a rhythm into her chest with his hands while shedding cold tears on her still sweltering skin. All the while he foolishly dreamt that his rescue breaths were a prince’s kiss, that somehow they could bring life. “We're supposed to be a family! That's what _I_ want! We need you!”

There was no drowning out the sounds of his baby's cries, her desperate pleas for her mother's warmth, any warmth. In the corner of his eye he could see her little pink legs defiantly kicking out of her loose swaddle. Her limbs kicked and punched at the air as if she too was doing all that she could. She was no different from any other little creature freshly thrust into the cold world, her hearty wails of protest coating the stale air and his aching hearts. She released regeneration energy with every squawk, every hoarse breath.

“Just do this for us, this one little thing, Rose, please, I'm begging you,” the Doctor collapsed onto Rose’s chest, his cool and sticky skin meeting hers. Even a Time Lord had his limits, and he was quickly approaching his. Normally if people were lucky they did this in turns. He was essentially alone.

But the Doctor was determined to defeat the heart monitor mocking Rose's lack of life. She'd had her wish granted. Now it was his turn, he thought to her, if there were any traces of Rose that could listen still. He had to have them both. There was no way that he could live his life raising a baby on his own. That couldn’t have been what Rose wished. Not when she'd promised him forever. That meant at least fifty more years, seventy if he was especially lucky. He'd earned them.

With every push, every panting breath and his daughter's caterwauling he repeated the unsafe number in his head and listened. Between the counting, Alina, and his own efforts, he heard the most horrific soundtrack imaginable. Four beats. Push. Dull tone. Cry. Breathe. Four beats. Push. Push. Cry. Dull tone. Push. Begging. Cry. Push. _Five beats_. Beep.

Five.

  


Five, and the sweetest relief in the universe. “Doctor?”

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose and the Doctor decide to have a baby together. After she becomes pregnant with his first womb born child, the Doctor realizes that he wants to raise a baby with more than just his best friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [allegoricalrose](http://allegoricalrose.tumblr.com/)'s baby!fic [prompt](http://allegoricalrose.tumblr.com/post/114087004514/ok-think-about-this-ten-rose-au-where-they-are).
> 
> Thank you all for joining me on this little journey. I hope you'll join me for more some time. : )

_With every push, every panting breath and his daughter's caterwauling he repeated the unsafe number in his head and listened. Between the counting, Alina, and his own efforts, he heard the most horrific soundtrack imaginable. Four beats. Push. Dull tone. Cry. Breathe. Four beats. Push. Push. Cry. Dull tone. Push. Begging. Cry. Push. Five beats. Beep._

_Five._

  


_Five, and the sweetest relief in the universe. “Doctor?”_

 

 

Rose felt smothered by fatigue, buried under the weight of her own eyelids and heaving chest. She fought desperately to open her eyes, to move her arms and yank away the invisible chains holding her down. But her body, arrested by a dull ache permeating every inch of skin from her scalp to her heels, was unwilling to do the work. And just as she felt herself wanting to tear up in frustration, a warm tide of calm lapped at her consciousness from her left side. Rose relaxed her shoulders and sighed, surrendering to it, surrendering to _him_. Never had she felt so thoroughly engulfed in a sense of relief. And the longer she waded in its balmy depths, the clearer the Doctor's thoughts flowed towards her consciousness.

There were so many questions left to be answered. He needed to have a very serious – and mostly one-sided – conversation with the TARDIS. But it could wait. Everything could wait. For all he cared, time could stand still. Right here, he had everything that he needed. Rose, Alina, Doctor. Family. Their symphony of life plucked his heartstrings once again, blanketing him in the safety that he'd nearly killed himself to have a firm grasp of. It was all worth it. He was a daddy now. Rose made him a daddy. He loved Rose. Rose was alive. She gave him a gift, a squeaking pink and yellow thing – angel – he didn't know he'd been waiting centuries to meet. This pink and yellow thing was so desperately eager to meet her mother.

The curtains to Rose's vision drew back slowly, easing open as she groaned under a stale breath. She threw her gaze to the left, and the first sight her eyes fell on was a tiny little baby cradled in her father's arms, hugged to his chest. The Doctor hadn't noticed her yet. And it was no wonder. He was wrapped up in his baby girl's stubby fingers, and his ears were captive to her hushed newborn mewling. He was already beginning to memorize her face's features with his eyes and nose pressed to its pink, gossamer skin. He nuzzled his hearts' contentment right onto her nose. The Doctor was in love.

His skin was pale, revealing one freckle for every worry he'd expressed for their hardships, and wrinkled like a worn patch of leather. Her poor Doctor, with little red puffs framing two dark and glistening orbs. His cheeks were still damp with a cocktail of worry and relief. It wasn't sweet baby drool trickling down Alina's chin and naked chest. Rose had seen the Doctor tear up a few times, each paired with those old puppy eyes of his. He made her feel as though he should never cry, not when his smile could brighten the darkest day. Yet even though he was clearly the worst for wear, he still gave his newborn daughter a cooing, teary-eyed smile. The Doctor wasn't the only one in love.

“Shh, I know, sweetheart. Mummy just needs a few minutes.” The Doctor pressed his thin lips to the peachy skin of her temple as his words faded into a kiss. “You really put her through her paces, Miss Tyler. Actually we haven't discussed your last name, have we? Rather like Tyler. Think it suits you anyway, eh sweetheart?” Alina's soft features scrunched together as she opened her mouth to protest with a whimpering cry. “No no no, shh. It's okay, we'll both have mummy soon. Promise.”

“Alina,” Rose groaned in a raspy sigh.

The Doctor didn't pop right up as Rose might have expected him to. He hummed at smiled at his baby before finally letting his gaze drift into hers. And Rose was just fine until their eyes met. The peaceful exhaustion coated every inch of his cool skin while his weary hearts swam right from his dark eyes and into hers, bringing forth tears of her own. A thousand and one conversations could have happened at once. Every point of contact between them was a wish for the presence of mind to have them.

But only one broke through the teary haze: what Rose essentially had already worked out on her own. But it permeated the Doctor's thoughts. Alina was a Time Lord, like him. Rose had already known that the Doctor never allowed himself the desire to be near another one. He'd considered it his penance. Just from the look on his face, Rose couldn't rightly tell if he let himself be pleased by it just yet, if it had even sunk in. But then he pouted his lips at Rose and laid a hand to his baby's chest before opening his mouth. His pink eyes glistened further, wanting to share with her how he felt. He'd seemed so composed before when he was speaking to Alina. Now all he could do was croak and squeak. Even if Rose couldn't feel her every bit of shared nerve endings with him being imbued with awe and adoration, Rose felt it all just from his struggles to bring it to words.

“She's okay,” he sighed into their baby's chocolate down a few measured breaths later. “She's hungry, and wanting mummy, but okay.”

“Can I..?” Rose bleated.

So rare was the occasion that Rose earned the Doctor's soft and warm smile. And now when all of her defenses were down and her entire body felt simultaneously numb and achy all over she was so weak to it. The Doctor could have been penniless and they could lead the dullest lives. But none of it would matter if he smiled at her and Alina as though they were the only two stars in his sky. That smile belonged to her, just as sweet little breathing proof cradled in his arms proved that Rose belonged to him. They belonged together.

The Doctor sat up a little and leaned in to Rose. She moved to bring up her arms but he hushed her and shook his head as he gently turned Alina over to lay her on Rose's chest. He brushed her locket aside so their baby could be safely nestled between her breasts. Rose brought a hand up to cup Alina's back just as the Doctor sunk down next to them and hugged her side. He nestled his head in the nook made by Rose's neck and shoulder as he kissed cool tears onto her skin. Rose brought her nose to her baby's and inhaled several Alina-infused breaths. She cooed golden wisps and sighed glittering dust. As if Rose needed any further proof that she'd given birth to a miracle, that was it right there. The Doctor had the honor of giving their baby her first kiss, but Rose was pleased to be her second, and dropped more wherever her parched lips could reach. She brought her free hand up to her chest and nestled Alina's in her palm.

“Hello Alina,” Rose whimpered in a gleeful, chest-filling smile. “Hello darling. I've waited so long to meet you.”

“Rose, her eyes are peeking open!” the Doctor whispered into her shoulder. “Rose look! Oh, you want to see your mummy, eh?” he cooed.

Rose craned her neck a little to look, to gaze into Alina's dark almond eyes. Of course she'd spent the last nine months (or much earlier, being honest) dreaming up hopes and promises for her child that deserved to touch the distant stars. She dreamt of what their first meeting would be like, full of bliss and undying love for her child. She expected to be exhilarated, having endured the marathon of her life. She had a whole new life ahead of her. Life's infinite number of possibilities twinkled in her daughter's eyes. The path down their new life, the three of them hand in hand, was laid out before her.

Yet all Rose could think about was how they'd gotten here, to the Doctor snuggled up to Rose, who had _their_ child wiggling her way down to her breast after the little family lost themselves in nearly an hour of bliss. The day they met could have been a lifetime ago. But the memory of it still played vividly in her mind. He'd taken her hand and told her to run, told her he could feel the Earth spinning beneath his feet. She took his hand and promised him he wasn't alone anymore. She smiled at him and dared him to live so that she could later save his life. He took her hand again and they ran, to the furthest reaches of the universe. She nearly lost him for eternity, but instead lost her family, and he held her close while she grieved over this. And though he so willingly became her family, she never expected him to be so excited to expand it. He reprimanded her when she dared to consider the notion of giving up because his desire to create a life from the pair of theirs was as strong as hers was.

“That day in the library, Doctor,” Rose sighed. He hummed at her as he stretched a leg across hers. They weren't going anywhere. “What was it called, paopu fruit? Think it works, yeah? She intertwines our destinies quite nicely.”

She couldn't really see it, but she could feel the Doctor beaming at her and Alina, who opened her mouth in the tiniest of yawns. “You do, don't you?” he told her, and threaded his fingers with Rose's on her back.

“I didn't know, I swear. It wasn't... it wasn't a plan we... the TARDIS – ”

He kissed her shoulder and hushed her. “I know. What do you remember, Rose?”

She shook her head. “Just bits and pieces, like remembering a dream. Not much, just enough, I guess. I remember hoping so much... wishing...”

“I know you didn't mean for it to be about a baby.”

Rose choked on a breath and swallowed hard. “Well, um.. I had a passing thought. Just wondering!” She felt a giggle rising in his throat and moved on quickly. “I loved you as friend back then, but I fancied you, thought you'd make a good dad.”

“Think I've earned my keep for the day.”

They both chuckled, Rose through a few tears. He sobered just before she spoke again. “She's not really half me anymore, is she?”

“If you could see her facial structure like I do, you wouldn't say that. Carbon copy, I'd say.”

“I'm being serious though, Doctor.”

They paused for a few minutes to bask in their baby's glow. Between the Doctor's even breathing, Alina's sweet baby scent, and her own efforts, Rose felt like she could sleep for ages. But she still had one more thing to do, and her baby was making this known with her gentle descent to her breast. The Doctor moved his hand to allow Rose to cradle her. He took Alina's foot and swept his thumb along her tiny toes.

“She's still very much you, Rose. She's _ours_ , we made her, remember? She's as much yours, mine, ours as she always was. The TARDIS wouldn't take that away from you. You grew her, and kept her safe, my brilliant Rose.”

“She helped though, planned it all along. Don't be mad at her, Doctor.” Rose nodded to the baby. “Let's just enjoy her, yeah?” She pursed her lips, dreading the question that had been eating away at her since she woke up. Her chest tightened and her mouth flew open to suck in a strengthening breath. She could do this without tearing up, she thought. “Can I.. can I still nurse?”

And of course, she failed miserably. Rose couldn't tell the Doctor how much the thought had invaded her daydreams and hopes over the past several months. She never imagined this part of bonding with her child might be stolen from her.

“Of course you can. You gave birth to her, your body knows what to do,” he paused and hummed. “You're worried you won't be enough.” Rose nodded. “I don't eat any more than you do. Well, except for bananas. If you can come back from... do you know how long you were out, Rose? Only fifteen minutes. Ten minutes I spent looking you over. Not even a broken rib. You come out of that looking as radiant as you do, as _impossibly_ healthy as you are, you can nurse my child.”

Rose was terribly exhausted, and hurting in places she'd rather not think about. She knew they were in for several rough weeks. She was really, sincerely hoping that newborn Time Lords slept more than grown ones. But just then she made a mental note for when they were out of the thick of it to handsomely reward the Doctor for those last few words that sent blood rushing to her face.

Latching on wasn't a process that came as easily as Rose might have expected. She considered having an argument with her child over it, after what she'd put them through. But with patience and gentle encouraging from the Doctor, Rose and Alina figured it out together. Just as he said, nature figured it out. It took a few minutes for it to truly settle in. On sleepless nights in the past several months, or while her belly expanded to accommodate her, perhaps when she became all too familiar with the location of every loo on the TARDIS Rose thought about belonging to this child. She certainly felt it for what Alina put her through. But it was never truer when Rose looked down at her little lips and fingers trapping her breast and taking from her mother what she needed, just as she ought to. This is what Rose cried for while waiting for Alina to be conceived. To watch her eyes flutter shut as they basked in this intimate embrace is what she'd endured so many months of morning sickness for. She'd given up her wardrobe to be able to count her petite fingers and toes. To hear her gentle suckling blanketing her ears and knowing that she was providing for her child is what she'd labored for. Cradling her child, skin to breast with her tiny palm on her mother's heart, that's what she'd nearly given her life for.

“I did it!” Rose cheered in a hushed murmur.

He rubbed her arm and dropped a kiss there. “Of course you did. Never doubted you.”

“Go easy on the TARDIS for me, Doctor, okay?” Rose asserted after finding one of his hands to squeeze a while later.

“If you want.”

She turned her head to look him square in the eyes. “I mean it.”

“I almost lost you, Rose. That was the second time I've almost lost you. I'm not having that again. I need you both so much.”

Rose's cheeks flushed and she yawned. Her skin tingled with bliss, and all she could think about was taking her first nap with Alina. Her hand patted Rose's heart, laying claim to it, though it had long since become hers. Alina was her precious child, and the love she was nourishing for her grew each second. But after all that, there was one thing Rose was all too grateful for.

“You'll always have her, though, Doctor. Alina's a gift. She'll stay with you, and help me keep my promise to you.”

The Doctor sat up and hovered over them. For a moment all he did was search Rose's eyes, as though she had the answers to all of the mysteries of the universe, answers that he should have already known. It would have made Rose's year if laying eyes on his newborn child made him forget it all. If he didn't have so much conviction fixed to his brow Rose might worry he would tear up again. Instead, he leaned forward to peck Alina's cheek as she sleepily suckled, briefly grazing her breast before he licked his lips and embraced hers. It was no matter to him that they were both more knackered than they'd ever been in their lives, nor that their breath still tasted like tea and tomatoes. The Doctor's nose poked her cheek and sent warm tremors racing down her spine. Their teeth bumped as he leaned in to stake his claim with his lips, then trapping hers.

“Doctor, the baby,” Rose muttered into his mouth.

“I want to show Alina what marriage is, Rose. If I'm going to lose you someday, alright. I promise I can live after. But only if you marry me. So that wherever Alina and I go after, however we choose to show it, the entire universe will know that I'm eternally bonded to someone. You.”

Rose stared up into the Doctor, his hand cupping her cheek all the while sending her his every desire to truly bond with her. Just behind a thin veil between her consciousness and his awaited his simple vows. He let her see just a glimpse of them, a taste of just one more thing that he'd somehow managed to hold back when he bore his soul to her. She had only a couple of arguments. He would live a long time after her. Forever was a long time to be bonded to someone long since gone.

“Right here, right now. Alina Tyler as our witness. Multitasking, eh, Rose?” His adam's apple gulped down some nerves. His gravelly voice trembled against her lips. His patented grin against them sent more tremors rippling across her face. “She gets her breakfast while mum and dad profess their undying love for one another. What do you say?”

“You're offering me your forever?”

He kissed her and nipped her lips before traveling to her ear that also received a few tastes and nibbles. “That's cheating,” Rose yipped.

“I'm going to ask every day until you tell me yes.”

She initially replied with her tongue pridefully licking her teeth. “Awfully domestic, that is.”

He hummed at his baby before tickling her naked belly and kissing her forehead. “It's growing on me, domestic.”

Rose would later call it the sleepiest and most casual wedding she'd ever attended, clothing optional, and in bed no less. It was also the shortest, with not much left to promise one another that they hadn't already, silently or otherwise. There were more kisses exchanged than words. With their thoughts floating between them on clouds of kisses, fingertips, and shared warmth, there was no need for words. The few that they spoke were for Alina's sake, who might not have even heard them anyway. She fell asleep at some point during the wave of calm that swept across the TARDIS after the earlier storm that was her birth. He whispered his true name to her on a warm breath shivering beneath his twin heartbeats. It came with the understanding that it belonged to her. And she carried it with her to her dying day.

 

 

\-------

 

“Doctor, you promised,” Rose whispered in between coughs. “I had a good run. Much longer than I should have.”

He crawled into bed with her and Alina, making a sandwich of her. “I tried. Really, I did, Rose,” he blubbered. “I want to come with you.”

Rose raked her daughter in closer. “Don't be selfish, Doctor. Alina may be grown, but she's got a lot to learn if she's going to take the TARDIS some day, yeah?”

His rare bout of silence was evidence to the truthfulness of her words. Their child, now 70 years old didn't look much younger than Rose. But she was still a child in the eyes of a Gallifreyan. She had many lives ahead of her. What Rose had wasn't much less, she decided. The Doctor vowed to carry her with him always, in his hearts and on the ring on his finger. And just in case that was ever lost, it was tattooed to his skin with Gallifreyan ink. Permanent.

“You've still got my forever. It's right there on your finger. And I'll not hear any arguments, old man,” she teased. Of course he never looked a day older.

The Doctor did as he was told. Though he made very effort to block his pain from her, years of marriage honed her telepathic skills. She had it down to a fine science. But Rose would be damned before leaving the Doctor with anything but peace to go along with her passing. She was just as feisty in her old age, and she always thought it looked good on her. She didn't go down without a fight. Never. Not after all that they had been through. She'd survived nearly falling into the Void. Rose Marion Tyler was going to die how she pleased. She had it all planned. The Doctor, Rose, and Alina, as it ought to be, together. She renewed her vows with the Doctor, this time to an awake Alina. And though he teared up, at least this time it produced a smile. It was all going according to her plans. That is, until the TARDIS changed them.

 

Just as the room was bathed in a blinding golden light and Rose's weary limbs arched off the bed, a whisper floated into to the consciousness of all three of them.

 

“ _My Rose. I need you safe. I bring life. This is_ my _wish, that I grant for myself. Happy Birthday.”_

 


End file.
